


Catch Two Tigers

by achievemenhunter



Series: Hunting the Hunters (Mavinwood Psychoteeth/Cop AU) [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Cop AU, M/M, Psychoteeth, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, brief instances of physical torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1614140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievemenhunter/pseuds/achievemenhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detectives Gavin Free and Michael Jones are sure that the man they've just interrogated, Ryan Haywood, is responsible for the serial murder spree currently terrorising Austin. But, with insufficient evidence, and Michael's temper getting the better of him when their suspect answers every question with a barbed taunt, they're forced to let Ryan go.</p><p>There are no prizes for guessing who the psychopath's next victims will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Due to many strident demands for more, here's the first chapter of a follow-up fic for Into the Lion's Den. I decided to post this as a separate story because of the rating/warning changes that apply to what will happen.
> 
> Those familiar with my other works (the primary relevant example being Captive) will know how I write non-con scenes. In all honesty, I don't know if I could ever write a full-on rape scene - even the idea of doing so makes me uncomfortable (and, no doubt, many readers too). So, yes, the warning tag for that is likely a little bit strong, but it's better safe than sorry - I don't want anyone reading this who could take issue with what happens in this fic, after all. That being said, if at any point in any fic I've written you feel like there needs to be a stronger warning, please let me know.

_Damn him straight to hell_ , Gavin thought as he rolled over for the fifth time in as many minutes in a futile attempt to find the optimal, most comfortable position on his bed so that he could finally fall asleep.

 

As if how  _physically_  comfortable he felt was the reason that he was still awake at two in the morning.

 

He flipped his pillow over, curling his body towards it and scowling. He tried to ignore the fact that Ryan Haywood was still at large because they hadn't yet found enough evidence to pin him to the serial murders that had been plaguing Austin as of late. He tried to ignore the memory of the chilling promise Ryan had given him and Michael, that he'd come for the two detectives, that he'd make Michael watch as Gavin was tortured.

 

His fingers slid under his pillow, finding reassurance in the cool touch of the gun he had hidden there. He focused on the hard metal, focused on slowing his breathing, and finally, gradually, drifted off to sleep. It wasn't an easy slumber; he woke several times, whipping his gun out from under his pillow as he flicked on his bedside lamp. Each time, he'd have to wait for several minutes as his pounding heart returned to a normal rhythm, eyes scanning the room once more before he switched off the lamp, tucking his gun back under the pillow.

 

The fourth time he woke up, the gun was gone.

 

He forced his breathing to stay steady as his fingers crept further under his pillow, hoping that he'd just pushed the weapon away a little in his sleep, praying that any second, his fingers would brush against the cold barrel or the moulded plastic grip.

 

"Looking for something?" a low voice chuckled to his left, and he was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the bedside lamp being turned on. Gavin scrambled backwards as he saw Ryan sitting in his desk chair, pulled up next to the bed. Ryan slouched comfortably in the chair, gun resting almost casually against his folded knee.

 

 _How did he get in here?_  Gavin thought frantically.  _Ray and Caleb are supposed to be keeping watch outside. Oh god, did he-_

 

"If you're worried about your friends in the patrol cars outside, you can stop. They're just unconscious."

 

Gavin swallowed dryly, his mouth suddenly feeling like a desert. "Why?"

 

"Why didn't I kill them?" Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "Well, it's not as enjoyable if there's no build-up, is it?" His head tilted to the side as he considered Gavin. "Actually, would you even know? Have you ever killed someone in the line of duty?"

 

Gavin shook his head mutely.

 

"Shame. I wish the circumstances were different - there's so many things I could show you..." He sighed wistfully. "Ah, well. You can't have everything." He shifted in his seat, and suddenly Gavin sat up with ramrod straightness.

 

"You're going to have to kill me. I'm not letting you take me anywhere. I'm not letting you put Michael through having to listen to you torture me." Gavin's voice cracked on the last few words, but he kept his expression defiant, fists clenched at his sides.

 

Ryan laughed at him. "That really isn't your choice to make," he said, moving with such unexpectedness and speed that Gavin had barely registered the fact that Ryan had left his seat before the gun was swinging at its owner's head, cracking against Gavin's skull and sending him spiralling into a world of roaring darkness.

 

~* * *~

 

Geoff opened his eyes blearily, staring at the phone buzzing on his bedside table, not yet awake enough to really focus on it. He felt Griffon shifting next to him, and he let an uncoordinated limb flail out, knocking against the bedside table before his hand curled loosely around the phone, dragging it towards him. He frowned at the unfamiliar number, and slapped the phone to his ear.

 

"If this is a prank call, I hope you realise you picked the wrong fucking person to mess with."

 

 _"I can assure you, this is a_ very _serious phone call_. _"_

 

He frowned again, rubbing at his face to try and wake himself up a bit. That voice sounded familiar somehow... "Who is this?"

 

There was a disappointed sound. _"Forgotten me already? I'm hurt - we only met yesterday."_

 

It clicked into place. "Haywood, you bastard," he snarled, sitting upright and barely hearing his wife's sleepy protest as he inadvertently tugged the doona away from her body.

 

_"I'd be careful with my words, Chief Ramsey. I don't think it'd be a good idea for you to make me angry - after all, I don't exactly vent my frustrations in a socially accepted way. Although I do have a wonderful new punching bag that I haven't gotten to test out yet. Why don't you say hello?"_

 

Geoff felt his heart seize as he recognised a second voice. _"Geoff, I'm so sorry, he got the drop on me-"_

 

"Gavin!" he shouted, hardly noticing the confused Griffon waking up beside him. "Haywood, you son of a bitch-" He froze as Gavin's strangled cry of pain reached his ears.

 

 _"Now what did I just say?"_ Ryan tutted. _"No wonder I've been having such an easy time of things in Austin, you're really not the brightest in the bunch, are you?"_

 

"What do you want?" Geoff asked tightly, just able to hear Gavin's shuddering breaths through the phone's speakers.

_"I'm glad you asked. I heard you suspended the other detective on my case - Michael Jones, wasn't it? - and I feel_ awful _for disrupting his work. I thought it was only right of me to fix things there - after all, having him running around trying to find me was going to be half the fun, and if I don't have that, well. What's the point in keeping young Mr. Free here alive?_ _"_

 

Geoff's knuckles were white around the phone. "You can't be serious. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want."

 

_"I told you already. I'm very serious about this. Or have I been mistaken in thinking that kidnapping and torture are considered minor offences these days? Do you really want me to bump this one up to a murder?"_

 

Geoff gripped his phone in terse silence, torn. Of course, he didn't want Gavin to be hurt. But on the other hand, it was a general rule on the force that kidnappers were not to be negotiated with. After all, if they gave kidnapper the power like that, more often than not the kidnapper would grow bold and demand more, and more, until-

 

 _"No, no, please-"_ Gavin begged suddenly, then screamed, quickly muffling the sound and moaning instead. But it was already too much for Geoff.

 

"Stop, I'll reinstate him, just stop!"

 

Gavin let out another soft moan as Ryan chuckled. _"There we go. That wasn't so bad, was it? Michael gets his job back, Gavin gets to keep all of his fingers, everyone wins. Let Detective Jones know I look forward to speaking to him again."_

 

The line went dead, and Geoff kept his phone clutched to his ear for a good three seconds before lowering it, staring numbly at the device.

 

"...Geoff?" Griffon asked hesitantly. "What's going on?"

 

"You... You know that serial killer case the APD's been struggling with?"

 

Alarm settled heavily on her features. "Geoff, what's happened?"

 

"The bastard's got one of my detectives," Geoff muttered quietly. "Gavin. You know him."

 

"The British guy? I remember him." She paused, swallowing thickly. "Oh god."

 

He rubbed his face vigorously and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have to let one of my other detectives know his suspension is over, and that a psychopath has his best friend, then I'm heading down to the station. Try to get back to sleep."

 

"I don't think I'm going to be able to."

 

He sighed quietly as he got out of the bed and glanced at the alarm clock. 5:12. "Yeah, I don't blame you. I should be back home tonight, but I probably won't make it in time for dinner. Don't wait up."

 

~* * *~

 

Michael woke from a troubled sleep to a grating, obnoxiously insistent noise. He stared in the general direction of the noise in stupefaction until his brain woke up properly, and he realised it was his phone ringing. With a tired groan, he swiped it from his bedside table, stomach sinking as he recognised his boss' number. Wasn't it enough that Michael had been suspended? Did Geoff really need to call him at the ass-crack of dawn to give him another lecture?

 

Yes, he'd fucked up, he already  _knew_  that. This was just unfair now.

 

"What is it, Geoff?" Michael fought to keep his voice neutral and somewhat awake-sounding, despite still lying flat on his back with his eyes closed.

 

_"Sorry to wake you, but it's important. I'm reinstating you."_

 

Michael shot bolt upright. "What? Why?"

 

He heard Geoff sigh, sounding exhausted from more than just the early hour. _"It's Gavin. Haywood got past Ray and Caleb and took him."_

 

"...Fuck.  _Fuck_!" Michael leapt from his bed, slapping his hand against the light switch and dashing around his room, hastily throwing some clothes on. His mind raced as fast as his pounding heart. "What about Ray and Caleb? Did they see anything? Are they..."

 

_"I don't know, they're not answering their phones. I'm headed over there now to find out. Meet me there?"_

 

"Way ahead of you," Michael replied breathlessly, snatching up his car keys as he bolted out his front door. He hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket, fumbling his keys a little in his haste before opening his car and climbing in. He slammed the door and put the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life as he tore away from the curb. It was almost three blocks before he remembered to put his seatbelt on, and he didn't slow as he jammed the clip into the buckle.

 

"Don't worry, Gavin," he muttered to the too-quiet interior of his car. It felt wrong somehow to turn on the radio. "We're going to find you before he can do anything."

 

He wished he felt even half as confident as he sounded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer than expected, you've all been wonderfully patient and I hope I don't disappoint!
> 
> This chapter brings us to this fics' first instalment of smut. So, let's quickly get warnings out of the way, because of course I don't want anyone to read something that they'll be uncomfortable with.
> 
> Content warnings for: blood (in a non-sexual context), dub/non-con, imprisonment, orgasm denial, light bondage, brief instances of physical pain.

Gavin felt the blood sliding down his wrist, slowly soaking into the leather cuffs that tethered him to the wall by a short length of chain.

 

Ryan grinned at him, lowering the phone and the knife. "He agreed in the nick of time, there, didn't he? If I'd had to go any further, you would've ended up with nerve damage, at the least." Gavin bit on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from whimpering, and Ryan frowned at him. "You don't look particularly grateful for the fact that you've still got all your fingers. I  _could_  have just sliced straight through, you know. Not to mention that I got your boyfriend's job back."

 

"He's not my boyfriend," Gavin whispered. "Please don't hurt him, please leave him out of this."

 

The older man arched an eyebrow at him. "You're going to have to forgive me if I don't believe you. I saw the way you two looked at each other when you brought me in for questioning yesterday."

 

"It's not... We're not dating."

 

"Oh, so it's more of a casual dalliance, then?"

 

A blush rose in Gavin's cheeks as he refused to meet his captor's gaze.

 

In all honesty, he didn't really know what to call the relationship between Michael and himself. It wasn't like they'd really had a discussion about it, it had just sort of... happened. One minute, they had been sitting on Gavin's couch, shoulder to shoulder as they played video games, and the next Michael's hand had cupped his cheek and drawn the Brit in for a kiss.

 

After that, more often than not their after-work gaming sessions had morphed into make-out sessions. They never went any further than heavy petting, and Gavin would usually jerk off once Michael had left. Although, there was one occasion where, when on a stake-out that they were both certain was going to be a bust for the third night in a row, Gavin had screwed up his courage and given Michael a hand-job, fobbing it off as something to do to alleviate the boredom inherent to a stake-out. As soon as Michael had caught his breath, he'd grumbled good-naturedly that there was jizz all over his steering wheel. Gavin had laughed, digging out a travel pack of tissues from the glove box and throwing them at him. They'd barely finished cleaning up when Geoff had called them, letting them know that the man they'd been staking out had just had his alibi cleared, and that they could head back to the precinct.

 

Gavin thought about that night more often than he should have. He'd meant to talk to Michael about it, but the next morning the body of the first of Ryan's victims had turned up, and the two detectives hadn't had time for anything except stopping the serial killer on the loose.

 

And how spectacularly they'd managed to fail on that count.

 

"We never... We haven't done much," Gavin muttered eventually.

 

Ryan tucked his phone away and lifted Gavin's chin, the knife still in his other hand. "You'd like to do more, though, wouldn't you? You'd like it to _mean_ something more, hm?" He made a sympathetic noise when Gavin said nothing. "Well then, I think this really is the best thing for the both of you. After all, you never do quite realise how precious something is until it's snatched away from you. I'm sure that Michael's realising that already, and that if I do ever let you go, he'll be waiting for you with open arms."

 

"But you never are going to let me go, are you?" Gavin replied quietly, and Ryan chuckled.

 

"You devoted the past three months to trying to find me, surely you would have learned enough about me in that time to figure out the answer to that yourself." His gaze flicked to Gavin's left hand, where blood was slowly coagulating against skin. "Now let's get that cleaned up for you."

 

"...What?" Confused, Gavin stared after him as he sauntered across the room to a small cupboard, rummaging around for a few seconds before pulling out a first aid kit. Ryan set it on the floor next to Gavin, and set about cleaning and dressing the cut at the base of his finger. Gavin gasped at the sting of antiseptic, and Ryan shushed him gently. "What're you doing?"

 

"What does it look like?"

 

" _Why?_ "

 

Ryan gave him a look. "I'm not a savage, you know," he said mildly, wrapping a bandage around a small gauze pad to hold it in place against the injury.

 

 _But you're a bloody psychopath_ , Gavin thought, although he figured it was prudent not to say so out loud. He was very much at Ryan's mercy, after all. "But what's the point?" he asked instead, trying to inject bravery into his voice. "Aren't you going to be slicing me to ribbons anyway?"

 

"Actually, I thought I'd do things a little differently this time around." He tied off the bandage, then smirked and stepped in close, hand gently lifting Gavin's chin. The Brit's eyes widened.

 

"But- that's not- you don't - you never did that to any of the others," Gavin stammered.

 

"True, but you're proving to be something of a special case." His hand shifted to cup Gavin's cheek, but the younger man violently wrenched his head to the side, looking at Ryan with a horror-filled gaze.

 

"Please don't do this. You can cut me up into little pieces if you want, just don't do this, please."

 

All compassion and good humour fled Ryan's eyes, leaving them hard and cold and dangerous. Gavin shrank back, terrified by the change.

 

"I can very quickly make you regret that decision, Gavin." His voice was low, soft, and a cold shiver went down Gavin's spine to hear his own name uttered in such a sinister tone. This time, when Ryan's warm fingers caressed his jawline, he shuddered but let it happen. Ryan stroked the pad of his thumb against Gavin's Adam's apple, then raised his hands over Gavin's head, unlocking the padlock that fixed the chain from Gavin's cuffs to the metal ring embedded in the wall.

 

Ryan lifted the chain and used it to drag Gavin across the room, to one of the single-size beds pressed against the wall. Gavin tugged at the chain and dug in his heels, but Ryan's grip was too strong, and Gavin couldn't generate enough pulling power with his wrists bound together as they were. The Brit slowly started to accept that this was going to happen, whether he wanted to or not.

 

That didn't stop him from putting up a fight as Ryan manhandled him onto the bed, straddling the Brit to hold him down. Gavin struggled to break free when Ryan was forced to undo the join between the two halves of the cuffs in order to chain him to the bed, as well as actually unstrapping one of them from Gavin's wrist. Ryan used his legs to pin Gavin's arms down, knees digging painfully into the crook of the younger man's elbows.

 

Gavin cried out in distress as Ryan successfully wrapped the chain around one of the thick metal rods that made up the bed's headboard, rebuckling the cuff around Gavin's wrist and locking the two cuffs together once more.

 

The older man fisted his hands in Gavin's baggy sleeping shirt. "Let's get this off you, shall we?" he murmured, pulling the knife out of his pocket and deftly slicing through the tops of Gavin's sleeves and the front of the shirt, tugging the rent fabric out from underneath Gavin's back and tossing it to the side.

 

Because Ryan hadn't given him the option of changing into proper clothes before being knocked out and kidnapped, the only other thing Gavin was wearing was his boxers. Gavin felt so vulnerable this close to nakedness that he started to shiver uncontrollably, his entire body shaking like a leaf as he lay helpless under Ryan's weight.

 

"Don't fret, pet," Ryan crooned, tucking the knife back into its pocket sheath. "You'll end up enjoying yourself. I'll make sure of that."

 

He planted his hands either side of Gavin's head, and Gavin prepared himself to bite Ryan's tongue if the older man tried to kiss him on the mouth, but it didn't happen. Instead, Ryan kissed along his jawline and up to his ear, nibbling lightly at the lobe before travelling lower. He lavished attention to Gavin's neck, working his lips, teeth and tongue along the expanse of skin. Gavin let out a small sound as Ryan's teeth scraped over his collarbone. Ryan grinned and repeated the action.

 

This time, Gavin remained resolutely silent, so Ryan brought one of his hands down to lightly tweak Gavin's nipples. The Brit gasped and arched away from the bed slightly. Ryan leaned down and took one of Gavin's nipples briefly between his teeth before kissing down the younger man's chest, then switching to Gavin's thighs as he crawled further down the bed. His arms wrapped around Gavin's legs, hands just above the Brit's knees to stop him from trying to break away.

 

His stubble rasped against the inside Gavin's thighs, and he smirked at the quiver that ran through the younger man's body. He mouthed at the mildly tented fabric of Gavin's boxers, enjoying the moan that the Brit wasn't entirely able to muffle. He chuckled.

 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You'd love for me to suck you off right now." His fingers hooked under Gavin's waistband, pulling the boxers all the way down and leaving Gavin completely naked against the bed. "Well..." he murmured, making Gavin twitch as Ryan's hot breath brushed over his cock. With a wicked grin, he placed a kiss against Gavin's tip, and Gavin made another muffled noise. "...Maybe next time." His smile grew wider as Gavin struggled to not sound disappointed.

 

His hand wrapped around Gavin's cock, quickly bringing the younger man to full hardness. Gavin gasped as Ryan suddenly flipped him over, hands tangling momentarily in the chains attaching him to the bed, before he sorted himself out and gripped onto the headboard. His fingers had barely closed around the metal rod when he heard the pop of a cap of lube being opened, and felt something slick pressing against his entrance. He jerked away at the touch, but Ryan's free hand grabbed at his hips, holding Gavin in place as the older man sank a finger into him. Gavin whined pitifully at the intrusion, his face screwing up as he tried to force himself to relax. Things would only get worse if he didn't, he knew.

 

After a few minutes, Gavin had loosened up enough for Ryan to safely add a second digit.

 

It took all of Gavin's self-control to keep from moaning as Ryan's fingers rubbed against his prostate.

 

"Bet you wish he'd touch you like this," Ryan murmured, fingers spreading and stretching Gavin's hole. "Bet you wish that I was him right now." Gavin felt a shiver run through him as Ryan leaned over his back. "But this isn't some sort of fairytale, Gavin. Wishes don't work like that in the real world." The Brit whimpered as Ryan added a third finger, circling his prostate until Gavin's legs were shaking.

 

Fingers gripping white-knuckled around the bar of the headboard that he was tethered to, Gavin bit his lip until he tasted blood in an effort to stop himself from making a sound. "You see," Ryan continued, briefly pausing to suck a mark next to the top of Gavin's spine, " _He's_  not here,  _I_ am. And I am not going to let you forget that. I told you yesterday," he said, and Gavin heard the rustle of fabric that meant Ryan was undressing. He heard the tearing of a condom wrapper, and tried desperately to not let his body tense up and undo what Ryan's fingers had done to him. "...I am going to make you  _scream_  my name. I am going to make you  _beg_  for me."

 

And then Gavin screamed, arms buckling towards the headboard as Ryan pressed into him. Ryan hushed him gently, hands running down Gavin's sides and curling one of them loosely around Gavin's cock, the other resting securely against his hip. Gavin whined at the conflicting sensations of pleasure and pain, and then soothing comfort as Ryan placed gentle kisses along the top of his spine. He felt himself adjusting to the width of Ryan inside him, and the older man slowly rolled into him, the tip of his cock angled just so to bump against Gavin's prostate. The Brit moaned, unable to help himself as his body responded to the stimulus. Ryan smiled against his shoulders.

 

"See, Gavin? I can make this so good for you. All you need to do is relax."

 

So Gavin did, telling himself that the way he was reacting was because Ryan was good at what he was doing. Not because that once you put aside the older man's psychosis, he was actually quite attractive, even someone Gavin could see himself being with consensually.

 

But Gavin hadn't consented to this. He hadn't wanted this. Hadn't wanted Ryan inside of him, making him slowly fall apart. And sure, it had been a while, but sex wasn't supposed to feel quite this good before he'd even climaxed, was it?

 

He wasn't quite sure when it happened, or how, but at some point Gavin stopped just taking it and started to press back against Ryan, meeting him at the apex of every thrust so that Ryan would fill him up even more. Ryan grinned diabolically and pushed into him a little harder, bending down to add another mark to Gavin's shoulders. "There you go, isn't this better?" he purred against Gavin's ear, voice low with lust. "It's okay for you to be enjoying this. You have needs, Gavin. It's not  _your_  fault Michael wasn't ready to satisfy them for you. You needed someone to take you in hand." He smirked, gently squeezing the base of Gavin's cock for emphasis. Gavin mewled and arched his back, his body starting to tense slightly as he felt himself approach release. "...But remember, you have to earn it." With that, Ryan's fingers tightened, cutting Gavin off from his orgasm. Gavin moaned desperately, arms jerking at his cuffs.

 

"R-Ryan, wait-" The words were lost as Ryan rammed into him, hips flush against Gavin's ass. Filling the younger man completely, Ryan brought his free hand down to tease along Gavin's length, running his thumb along the slit to spread the precome over the rest of the purpling head of Gavin's cock. Gavin wailed and shook, and Ryan stopped the attentions he was giving Gavin's cock - while still keeping a tight grip around the base, of course - before fucking into him with abandon.

 

Gavin's knuckles tightened even further around the headboard, burning around the cut on his hand. He felt like the bones of his fingers were just about ready to break through his skin from the sheer strength of his grip. Sweat rolled down his face, down his back. It stung in his eyes so he screwed them shut, mouth hanging open at the aborted pleasure threatening to break him apart.

 

He shattered.

 

"Ryan, Ryan please, I can't- I need-  _please_ -" he babbled.

 

"Tell me what you want, Gavin." The purr of Ryan's voice was closer to a growl.

 

Gavin threw his dignity and morality and self respect from the top floor of a metaphorical skyscraper, watching them crash and burn. "Ryan, please let me come, I can't take it, please, please Ryan, Ryan-!" The broken sentence rose in pitch, then melted into a moan as Ryan's fingers loosened. Orgasm hit Gavin almost instantaneously and he jetted his load against the sheets. Ryan got in two more good, hard thrusts before the way Gavin's muscles were clenching around him became too much, and he spilled into the condom.

 

"Told you I'd make you scream," he murmured, slowly pulling out of Gavin with a satisfied smile.

 

Panting, Gavin sagged against his chains and said nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I'm a bit late in posting this, have a slightly-longer-than-usual chapter as an apology.

Michael made to Gavin's house in record time. He pulled up at the curb a little more abruptly than he should have, and spotted Geoff's car parked on the opposite side of the street, Geoff himself shutting the door as he got out. Scrambling with his seatbelt, Michael extricated himself from his car and hurried over to join his boss in heading over to the closest patrol car. Ray was inside, chin slumped onto his chest and blood coagulating at the side of his head.

 

Fearing the worst, they opened the door to check whether or not the officer was alive. Michael reached in and lightly pressed his fingers to Ray's neck, searching for a pulse. He was relieved to feel a rhythmic thud and the tickling whisper of Ray's breath against his cheek.

 

"He's alive, thank fuck," Michael turned to Geoff. "See if you can wake him up, I'll go check on Caleb."

 

Geoff nodded and Michael brushed past him, striding towards the second patrol car. Gently, Geoff shook Ray's shoulder. The younger man's head flopped limply before perking up, pain and confusion clear on his face.

 

"What... Geoff?" A panicked look entered his eyes. "Haywood, he was here, he's-"

 

"I know," Geoff said grimly. "He got Gavin."

 

Ray closed his eyes briefly, hands coming up to grip the steering wheel. "Shit. I'm so sorry Geoff, we should've been able to stop him-"

 

"Don't beat yourself up," Geoff cut him off. "If anything, it's my fault - I underestimated just how committed this guy was to getting Gavin. I should've realised." He frowned angrily at himself, then forced his expression to soften, taking a better look at Ray's head injury. "What happened, exactly?"

 

"Haywood must've come up alongside my car - guy's quiet, and quick as fuck, too, I didn't even see him until he'd opened the door and clubbed me on the head with something. I didn't have time to see what before I blacked out." He scratched at some of the dried blood sticking to his temple, wincing. "I'm guessing he went for Caleb next? Is he okay?"

 

"Michael's checking now."

 

"I'll help, just let me..." He fumbled with his seatbelt and Geoff went to steady him, but Ray brushed him off. "I'm good. C'mon." They quickly made their way to the second squad car, where Michael was helping Caleb get to his feet. Caleb was a bit more unsteady on his feet than Ray, but otherwise seemed to be fine.

 

"He was too quick for me, Geoff," Caleb apologised as the two other men joined them. "I only noticed him when he was next to my car door. I tried to go for my radio, but he got to me before I could use it." He gestured vaguely at the head injury he was sporting, similar to Ray's. Geoff reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

 

"Like I told Ray, don't beat yourself up about it. I'm gonna call paramedics to check you guys over, and get forensics out here to comb the place, see if Haywood left anything behind. Michael, you're with me - we're going to Haywood's house, see if we can find anything there. I'll call in a second forensics team, too." He looked to Ray and Caleb. "You guys okay to secure the area here?"

 

Both men nodded and immediately winced slightly at the small spike of pain that went through their heads, but otherwise were resolute.

 

"Just a bit of a bump, Geoff," Caleb said firmly. "We'll be fine."

 

"We got this."

 

Geoff nodded at them. "Call me if you find anything." He strode rapidly to his car, forcing himself not to break out into a run. He heard Michael returning to his own vehicle behind him, and Geoff slipped into his driver's seat, connecting his phone to the car's Bluetooth as he started the engine. "Call, Forensics Department," he told the console as he slammed the door, strapping on his seatbelt. He immediately regretted closing the door so loudly, because it masked his words enough to confuse the car's onboard system.

 

"I'm sorry, I did not understand you." The Bluetooth A.I.'s monotone voice grated against his already frayed nerves. "Please input a valid vocal command."

 

Biting back a frustrated noise, Geoff all but growled his response. "Call. Forensics. Department."

 

"Did you say: call, Forensics Department?" the voice intoned.

 

"Yes," Geoff replied irately, adding, "you gimmicky piece of shit," under his breath.

 

~* * *~

 

Michael was already busting through Ryan's front door by the time Geoff arrived, entering the house before Geoff even got out of his car. The police chief frowned at the younger man's rash actions. Michael should have waited for Geoff to join him before going inside, or even knocking down the door. He sighed, hurrying across the road. While Geoff wanted Gavin out of Ryan's grasp just as much as Michael did, Geoff at least could maintain enough common sense to not go charging into a potentially hostile situation without backup immediately behind him.

 

He pressed forward through the dark and quiet rooms, seeing Michael move up into the kitchen, gun drawn. Geoff kept his grip on his own firearm firm but loose, the action almost subconscious now after years of experience. His heart pounded in his chest as they swept through the rooms, that rush of adrenaline from potentially getting into deadly confrontation never ceasing to make his pulse and breathing quicken.

 

"All clear," he called out as he finished checking the bathroom.

 

"All clear," Michael responded, flicking on the lights so that they could see each other clearly.

 

"We can do a more intensive sweep while we wait for Lindsay's forensics team to get here," Geoff suggested quickly, noticing that Michael had already started to fidget without the prospect of something to do that was immediately beneficial to their search for Gavin.

 

The younger man nodded rapidly, tucking his gun away with some reluctance. "I'll take the bedroom, you start at the other end and we'll work our way towards each other?"

 

"Sounds good." Geoff nodded and headed for the living room.

 

He'd barely gotten snapped on a pair of rubber gloves before he heard a slightly strangled-sounding, "Geoff?" coming from the other end of the house.

 

"What is it?" Geoff jogged into the master bedroom, where Michael was standing at the foot of the bed, wearing his own pair of rubber gloves and holding out a phone at arm's length, like it was something vile and tainted. He could see the neat indent it had left in the otherwise immaculately made bedspread.

 

"Is that Haywood's?" he asked, sidling up beside the young detective.

 

"It's Gavin's," Michael replied tightly. "It's got that crack on the top left from when he accidentally dropped it in one of those fake potted plants at the precinct."

 

"...Why are you holding it like it's possessed?"

 

Michael gave him a grim look and pressed the home button, pulling up the lock screen.

 

Something deep in Geoff's gut twisted unpleasantly.

 

Instead of the goofy selfie of Gavin and Michael that Geoff knew was usually the Brit's lock screen picture, he was confronted with the raised eyebrow and supercilious smirk of Ryan Haywood. His gaze quickly zeroed in on the paper sign that the killer was holding up.

 

_He should have had better protection on his phone. He should have had better protection in general._

 

_Enjoy the video._

 

"Video? What video?"

 

"I haven't watched it yet," Michael replied, barely keeping the angry tremor from his voice as he swiped the lock screen to the side, tapping at the video tile and selecting the most recent file.

 

 _"Morning, Detective."_ Ryan grinned at the camera. _"I'm assuming it's still morning when you find this. And, of course, that it's_ you _who finds this, but I doubt you'd let your Chief of Police assign anyone else to lead of this case. Oh, and you're welcome for me getting you your job back, by the way. I mean, as of recording this, I haven't yet, but I'm sure I can convince your boss to reinstate you_ _."_

 

"Geoff?" Michael shot the older man a confused look.

 

"Later," he muttered in reply. He had a sneaking suspicion that the video would end up covering things for him.

 

 _"But enough about that, I'm sure you want to see your friend, don't you?"_ At this point, Ryan turned the phone around, filling the camera with a shot of a heavy metal door. The camera tilted slightly as Ryan heaved against the door, then swung towards the blindfolded figure chained to the far wall, obviously Gavin. Michael's fingers tightened unconsciously on the phone, and Geoff gently sat both of them down on the end of the bed, gripping Michael's shoulder comfortingly.

 

 _"Who's there? Ryan?"_ Gavin's voice echoed feebly off the concrete walls, head swivelling blindly from side to side as he tried to focus on which direction the sound of the door opening had come from. He flinched visibly as Ryan strode slowly and deliberately into the room, footsteps loud against the hard floor. The door closed with a heavy thud.

 

The video suddenly went dark, and Michael almost cried out at the loss of visual on Gavin. It was quickly apparent that the video wasn't over yet, though, as there was still slightly muffled sound coming through the speakers. He realised that Ryan must have put the phone in his pocket, he could only guess in order to hide its presence from Gavin.

 

Gavin's whimper had barely been picked up by the microphone, and it was followed by the sound of rustling fabric and a panicked gasp, also from Gavin. Michael figured that Ryan must have removed the blindfold. Geoff gave him another comforting squeeze. Both of them had their eyes glued to the small screen.

 

_"Good to see you're finally awake. Now, what was it you were saying about me not being able to take you alive?"_

 

 _"Fuck you,"_ was Gavin's shaky reply.

 

The two men watching the video heard the rasp of a knife being drawn.

 

Ryan tutted. _"Now, that was just rude."_ Gavin whined slightly. _"I think I'll have to have a chat with your boss about your behaviour."_

 

They heard Ryan digging in one of his other pockets for his phone. _"Here, I'll put him on speaker so you can hear him too."_

 

The slightly distorted sound of a recorded phone ringing filled the unbearable silence before the voice of a tired and angry Geoff echoed tinnily in the room _. "If this is a prank call, I hope you realise you picked the wrong fucking person to mess with."_

 

 _"I can assure you, this is a_ very _serious phone call_. _"_

 

A pained expression crossed Geoff's face as he heard the conversation play out for a second time. He avoided Michael's gaze as Ryan revealed the specifics of why the detective had been reinstated.

 

_"He agreed in the nick of time, there, didn't he? If I'd had to go any further, you would've ended up with nerve damage, at the least."_

 

Michael grit his teeth at the byplay between captor and victim, and Gavin's confession of his true feelings for Michael by way of his silence. He hadn't known that Gavin's feelings went quite that deep - he'd thought they were just friends with benefits, though he'd be lying if he said he didn't sometimes envision that they'd be something more.

 

He hoped desperately that he'd have the chance to tell Gavin that.

 

_"Now let's get that cleaned up for you."_

 

They heard the denim of Ryan's jeans shifting and rubbing close to the phone's mic as he crossed the room. The video went a blinding white for a few seconds, then the camera recovered from the sudden light exposure in time for Michael and Geoff to get a first-person view of Ryan setting the phone on the lower shelf of the medicine cupboard, facing outwards and mostly hidden behind a box of bandaids. The serial killer fiddled around in the cupboard for a few seconds more, grabbing the first aid kit and leaving the cupboard door open enough to give Michael and Geoff a decent view of Gavin and most of one of the beds lined up against the wall opposite the cupboard.

 

At that distance, the phone's mic wasn't able to pick up what Gavin and Ryan were saying, but it became encroachingly clear what Ryan's plan was as he stepped closer to Gavin, cradling the younger man's jaw and tracing the contours of his neck before detaching Gavin from the wall and dragging him to the bed.

 

"He isn't- he won't- that isn't his M.O.," Geoff whispered disbelievingly, shocked and horrified as Ryan successfully chained the Brit to the bed.

 

Michael said nothing, one hand going to his mouth so that he could bite down on his knuckle.

 

Blood flowed between his lips as he bit too hard, but he barely noticed. He was far too focused on the scene playing out on the phone, unable to tear his appalled gaze from the screen as Ryan stripped Gavin of his clothing.

 

 _"Jesus,"_ Geoff let out the word in a long breath, standing and rubbing his hands over his face, not up to watching the video any longer. He started to pace, fingers clutching at his hair and tugging at the roots. Michael remained on the bed, a chaotic tumble of emotions roiling underneath his frozen exterior.

 

He vaguely tasted his own blood as Gavin's cries began to sound less like pain and more like pleasure. The hand on the phone clenched even more tightly as Gavin started to beg for release, and some part of him was surprised the device didn't shatter in his grip when Gavin screamed Ryan's name.

 

Blood trickled down his wrist as he watched Ryan pull out of Gavin slowly, the Brit sagging against his chains. Ryan took off his condom and disposed of it before striding back over to the medicine cupboard, smirking triumphantly into the camera before picking the phone up.

 

 _"Smile for the camera, Gavin,"_ he said mockingly, walking back over to the bed, getting a close-up shot of Gavin in all his nakedness.

 

_"What?"_

 

The video file ended on Gavin's horrified face.

 

Michael's hand shook around the phone, and he nearly dropped it as he stared furiously at the screen, barely able to see it through the white-hot grief and rage coursing through him.

 

"...Michael?" Geoff asked, putting a hesitant hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We're going to catch Haywood, okay? We'll make sure that motherfucker gets put away for good. You can put the cuffs on him yourself."

 

But Michael shook his head, the tremors taking over his whole body. He moved his bloodied knuckle away from his mouth, baring his red-stained teeth in a way that almost made him look demonic.

 

"No handcuffs. No jail. I'm not giving him that chance. I'm going to fucking  _kill him_."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry to keep you guys waiting! Here's another chapter, with Michael being angry and frustrated at things.
> 
> So, basically, business as usual.
> 
> Oh, and I was looking at my stats page, and it turns out I've published over 100,000 words of published fanfic for Achievement Hunter/Rooster Teeth! So, you know, that's a thing. (Honestly, I probably have half again of that in unpublished stuff. There's another multichapter fic I'm working on in the background that I still have to write the first chapter for, yet I've written over 25,000 words of stuff that happens later on. God forbid I ever do things in a way that makes sense.)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

"What, Geoff? Stop looking at me like that. I can take it."

 

Geoff sighed heavily and cast a concerned look at the young detective. "...Barbara and Lindsay's forensics teams didn't turn up anything," he began tentatively. Michael swore angrily under his breath. "All we know is that Haywood wasn't being spontaneous - he's taken most of the stuff from his cupboards to wherever he's holed himself up. His place is cleaned out." He saw Michael's hands clench into fists, and Geoff leaned awkwardly over his desk to pat the redhead on the shoulder. "...We'll find him, Michael."

 

"What's our next move?"

 

The police chief scratched at his chin. "Techs are going over the video on Gavin's phone to see if they can find any clues to where Haywood's holding him, nothing so far. I've been in contact with the Atlanta PD - we already knew that this isn't Haywood's first time around the block, turns out he started close to home before working his way through to Texas. We've cross-referenced some of his old residences, and they match up almost perfectly to reports of similar killing sprees-"

 

"We already  _knew_  most of this, Geoff!" Michael snapped. "We already know he's the guy we're after, we have him on fucking video! How is any of this supposed to help?"

 

A pained expression flitted across Geoff's face. "The APD is trying to get in contact with his family, see if they know the sorts of places he might go. He didn't really have any friends here, the neighbours didn't really know him all that well - you interviewed some of them, you know they all thought he was perfectly normal." Geoff passed a hand over his face, and it seemed to age by years. "...We just don't have a whole lot to go on."

 

"That isn't good enough," Michael said tightly, a vein throbbing on his forehead, his skin flushed.

 

Geoff's face darkened. "Don't act like everyone isn't trying their best. That psycho has one of our own, we're all trying the hardest we can to get Gavin back. Remember, the only reason you're  _here_  right now is because Haywood got to Gavin. If you're just going to get angry when things aren't going as fast as you want them to, and if you just rush ahead without thinking like you did at Haywood's house this morning, then you're going to make everyone else's jobs a lot harder." Geoff fixed him with an icy blue stare. "Gavin almost lost a finger for you to get your job back," he said softly. "Don't throw that back in his face by letting your anger get the better of you."

 

Michael's jaw clenched as he dropped his gaze, nodding.

 

"D'you think you can manage to get through the official briefing?" Michael nodded again, and Geoff relaxed slightly. "Good. We'll save a lot of time if I don't have to keep telling you things separately from everyone else. I can't always make concessions for you, Michael. You need to learn to control your temper, or it's just going to land you in even bigger trouble. Got it?"

 

The detective swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. "Got it."

 

"Alright then. Let's go."

 

~* * *~

 

Despite all his assurances to Geoff, it took everything Michael had to not scream and start knocking things over in anger during the briefing. What made things even worse was that his earlier meeting with Geoff had reminded him that Michael himself was really the reason that Gavin was gone. If Michael could have controlled his anger better, they wouldn't have had to let Haywood go when they'd first interviewed him, and the psychopath wouldn't have had the opportunity to kidnap Gavin. He ached to be doing something useful, rather than standing around listening to Geoff explain things a second time to everyone else at the precinct. It was already past four in the afternoon, and it felt like he hadn't done anything remotely conducive to finding Gavin yet.

 

As soon as the briefing was over, Michael headed over to where Ryan worked as one of the tech staff for a security company, with the intention of interviewing the boss. But the surly Mexican that Ryan had worked under didn't have anything useful to tell him - just that Haywood had seemed friendly, was an industrious worker, and hadn't given notice or any indication where he was going. The man then went on to grumble about needing to find a replacement at such short notice, his thick eyebrows pulled down heavily over his dark eyes, but Michael had already stopped listening. Michael thanked him for his time as insincerely as he could without sounding sarcastic, and made his way back to the precinct in a sour mood, picking up a fast food dinner on the way. It tasted like ash in his mouth.

 

The techs at the precinct had taken Gavin's phone as soon as Michael and Geoff had returned from Ryan's house that morning, and by the time Michael arrived back from his hasty meal, they'd already scrubbed through all of the footage. He approached Kdin, the tech he knew best, and asked him if they'd found anything, but it was immediately clear that there wasn't good news. They hadn't found anything on the visual side of things, and although they hadn't yet finished running the audio through their isolation software, the look on Kdin's face told Michael that that avenue wasn't looking particularly promising either. Michael forced down his rage, knowing it wasn't Kdin's fault - or the fault of any of the other techs, for that matter - and instead asked for a copy of the video file on a flash drive. Kdin was dubious, and came close to outright refusing him, but Michael exerted the full force of his dominant personality and the younger man caved.

 

Michael then secluded himself at his desk, shaking his computer mouse across the mouse pad to wake the screen up, and slotted the USB into the side of the monitor. He put on a set of headphones, feeling the foam settle snugly against his ears, then steeled himself and opened the video file.

 

 _"Morning, Detective."_ Michael grit his teeth, already starting to see red as Ryan's infuriating smirk popped up on the screen. _"I'm assuming it's still morning when you find this. And, of course, that it's_ you _who finds this, but I doubt you'd let your Chief of Police assign anyone else to lead of this case_. _"_

"Michael," a voice sighed behind him. "Why are you torturing yourself?"

 

The detective hit pause and turned to find Geoff, looking at him with his perpetually tired eyes. The older man really had seemed to age a year for every hour that Gavin had been missing - Michael could swear that he could see greys in Geoff's hair.

 

"I'm not - I just have to make sure nobody missed anything."

 

Geoff shook his head. "You don't have to do this."

 

"Geoff, please, I  _need_  this. There's nothing else for me to do, and I can't do  _nothing_  right now."

 

He looked troubled. "As long as you can keep this from getting to you." He paused, squaring his shoulders. "That being said, I don't want you leaving the precinct tonight. There's a couch you can crash on in my office once you're done. Here's a spare key." He placed a small silver key on the desk. Michael swiped it up and pocketed it. "It's too dangerous for you to be going anywhere by yourself right now. I'll get someone to go home with you tomorrow so that you can have a shower and get changed. We know Haywood's gotten fixated on you as well as Gavin, so I don't want to take any chances." His eyes grew soft. "Don't keep at this for too long, okay?"

 

Michael nodded. "I won't," he replied, and Geoff walked away, leaving Michael alone to continue watching the file.

 

" _Oh, you're welcome for me getting you your job back, by the way..._ _"_

~* * *~

 

"Michael, you gotta stop doing this to yourself. You've been at it for  _hours_."

 

The redhead paused the video, but didn't look over at Ray, who was leaning on the edge of his desk. Instead, he continued to stare at the screen, Ryan's frozen face smirking back at him. "I can't. Techs must've missed something."

 

The officer had had a sterile pad stuck over his head injury and had been cleared by medical staff to resume work that morning. Even though Geoff had told him not to blame himself, Ray still felt some responsibility for Gavin's kidnapping. "At least stop watching it with sound," he begged, sliding a mug of coffee onto the desk. "You know the programmes the techs're running on it can isolate sounds way better than a human ever could."

 

With a show of reluctance, Michael slipped the headphones from his ears to hang around his neck, reaching for the coffee. He sipped it without tasting it, barely feeling its warmth. "Thanks," he muttered.

 

"Just make sure you take a break at some point, too," Ray told him, giving him a clumsy pat to the shoulder. "Everybody wants Gavin back, but you know he wouldn't want you to be like this about it. You need your rest."

 

"Thanks,  _mom_."  Michael scowled into the mug, already more than halfway through the drink.

 

Ray gave him a grave look. "I'm being serious. If you push yourself too much, you're just gonna end up too tired to do your job properly. You'll make mistakes, you'll miss things. It'll take even longer to find him if you don't take care of yourself."

 

Michael made a noncommittal noise. Ray sighed and moved away, leaving Michael to drain the rest of his coffee and resume the video.

 

It wasn't like he watched it the whole way through - he wasn't a complete masochist. Besides, the only possibly useful footage was in the first few minutes of the video, before Ryan went into the room where Gavin was. Michael would play the video frame by frame every time that it got to the point where Ryan opened the door, hoping feverishly that this time, he'd catch a glimpse of something useful as the camera captured more than just the door or the interior of the room. As always, he was disappointed, and after briefly torturing himself by watching a few seconds longer, seeing the panicked look on the chained and blindfolded Gavin's face, he started the video from the beginning once more.

 

He'd taken off his headphones to appease Ray, but he hadn't told the officer that he'd watched the video so many times already at that point that not having the sound did very little - Michael could hear Ryan's voice perfectly in his head, the words imprinted on his brain. He doubted he'd ever forget them, even if they rescued Gavin.

 

 _When. Not if_ , he berated himself savagely, returning to staring intently at the still on the screen before clicking over to the next frame.

 

Even with the coffee pushing caffeine sluggishly through his veins, Michael could feel his eyelids drooping. It was already far past normal working hours, even for him, and on top of the stressful day he'd had before, he'd had probably less than three hours sleep before Geoff had called him that morning. He was on the brink of exhaustion. He shook himself vigorously and blinked a few times, refocusing his gaze on the computer screen. Less than a minute later, his eyes shut. He jerked himself awake what felt like a few seconds later, but when he checked the time, a good twenty five minutes had passed. With a troubled sigh, he admitted to himself that he would function better after getting some sleep. Leaving the mug and computer as they were - not bothered in the slightest about cleaning up after himself seeing as he'd be right back at it in the morning - Michael walked to Geoff's office with leaden feet.

 

He fell asleep on the small couch even before he'd finished collapsing onto it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - my laptop's currently being serviced, so I actually had to write and post the entirety of this chapter from my phone. Yeah. That's how much I love you guys. Should be getting it back Monday morning, though, so that's good! 
> 
> Anyway, just a fair warning before you continue: this is not a very happy chapter. It's very much non-con, so, y'know, keep away from children and anyone you plan on looking in eye again. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Michael woke, eyes bleary, to the feeling of someone gently shaking him.

 

"C'mon, Michael. Time to get up."

 

With a jaw-splitting yawn, Michael blinked at his boss, not yet entirely awake. Geoff held out a bagel and a bottle of water for him. Michael accepted the food and drink mechanically, slowly sitting up on the couch, the blanket that Geoff had left for him the night before slipping from his shoulders.

 

"Thanks, Geoff."

 

"Ah, don't mention it. I just feel bad for making you sleep in my office. I know that couch always gives me a sore back whenever I crash here."

 

Michael pushed his shoulders back, his spine arching and cracking a few times. "Actually, it wasn't that bad for me," he said, taking a swig from the bottle and a bite from the bagel.

 

"I hate young people," Geoff muttered. "Let me know when you finish your food, I'll call Jack in here and have him take you home so you can shower and get changed." Michael nodded through another mouthful of bagel, and Geoff walked over to his desk and sank into his chair with a heavy sigh, powering up his computer.

 

With as much speed as he could manage without choking, Michael stuffed large chunks of the bagel into his mouth, washing each half-chewed bite down with another gulp of water. Even after he'd swallowed the last morsel of food, the bad taste of not brushing his teeth the night before lingered on his tongue. He made a face, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

 

"Done, Geoff," he called, taking one last sip of water. Geoff nodded and pulled out his phone, having a brief conversation with Jack before hanging up.

 

It would have been easier for Michael to just meet the sergeant at his desk, but the curly-haired man guessed that Geoff didn't feel comfortable with the idea of Michael being alone, even within the precinct, even for the short amount of time it would take for Michael to reach Jack. The concern would have been touching under different circumstances, but in that instant, it only served to irritate the detective. He'd been awake long enough for the drowsy fog of sleep to dissipate completely, leaving his leg jiggling and his fists clenching and unclenching periodically as he waited for Jack to arrive.

 

Less than a minute later, Jack cracked the door open, peering into the office. Michael stood, and with a quiet, "See you later, Geoff," left with the sergeant.

 

Neither of them talked on the way out of the precinct. Or when the climbed into Jack's car, the engine purring to life. The silence was oppressive, filled with Jack's obvious desire to ask Michael how he was holding up, if there was anything Jack could do, anything at all that would make the detective feel even a little bit better. Jack only kept his mouth shut because he knew Michael had already heard the questions the previous day, multiple times from multiple sources.

 

"Oh my fucking god, I've got my shit together enough to get the job done, alright?" Michael snapped, unable to take the thick silence for a second longer.

 

"I didn't say anything," Jack said mildly, flicking on his indicator as they rolled to a stop at a traffic light.

 

Michael snorted. "C'mon, you might as well be wearing a giant neon sign that says, 'Michael, you look upset by the fact that your best friend was kidnapped by a murderous psychopath.'"

 

Jack gave him a soft look, full of understanding. "We'll get him back, Michael."

 

The young detective grit his teeth and stared out the window, at the sunny Texas sky that looked the exact opposite to what he felt it should at a time like this.

 

"Everyone keeps  _saying_  that. We still haven't even found anything remotely useful yet, and it's already been more than a day."

 

The traffic light went green, and Jack eased onto the gas, keeping his eyes on the road as he replied. "I know the statistics are against it, but I can almost guarantee you that Gavin is still alive and well, relatively speaking." He paused, his voice gentle. "I know I'm going to sound callous, but Haywood's personality will work in our favour. He's going to want to drag this out and enjoy every moment. If he…" Jack faltered momentarily before ploughing on. "If he killed Gavin now, he'd just be robbing himself of his fun. Yes, Gavin's not going to be having a great time of things, but his life isn't in immediate danger. Just… you don't need to be beating yourself up about this so much, okay? We have time. Not a lot, but hopefully it should be enough."

 

"Might not be, though," Michael replied softly, still staring out the window. They lapsed into silence once more.

 

~* * *~

 

Michael unlocked his front door with surprising reluctance. His house, although a little on the small side, had never seemed cramped or uncomfortably snug to him. Now, it felt like the walls were pressing in on him, glaring down at him, accusing him for not doing a better job at protecting his friend.

 

He saw his Xbox controllers stacked a little haphazardly on a stack of games, where they'd been left the last time Gavin had come over after a long day at work to wind down by building stupid shit in Minecraft. His stomach twisted in knots at the sight.

 

"Wait," Jack stopped him from moving further into the house. "We know that Haywood was able to find where Gavin lived, we don't know if he knows where you live, too. We should check the other rooms."

 

Michael nodded, insides twisting further. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Ryan could visit his home, too.

 

The walls seemed closer than ever.

 

Pulling his gun from its holster, Michael listened to the instinct curling in his gut that told him to check his bedroom first. Jack followed closely behind, watching Michael's back. While it would have been more efficient for the sergeant to break off and search the other rooms of the small house, it was clear that he shared the same protective instincts as Geoff.

 

At first, when Michael pushed his bedroom door open, nothing seemed out of place. Then Michael felt bile rise in his throat as his eyes zeroed in on what looked like a cheap pre-paid phone, pinning a small piece of paper against his bedcovers.

 

"Oh, no," Jack murmured, horrified.

 

Michael put his gun away and snatched up the note, the phone tumbling onto the bed. His eyes scanned the paper rapidly, his face darkening progressively as he read. Jack was suddenly glad that Michael had put his gun away, because the redhead looked like he would have riddled his mattress with holes if the firearm had still been in his hands.

 

Those hands were now shaking and slowly tightening around the note, threatening to tear it asunder. Jack eased it from the younger man's grip, quickly reading it for himself.

 

_I'm sorry there's only audio on this one. Didn't have any spare smartphones lying around, aside from that one that Gavin donated, and you can understand why I can't just go throwing money at a new iPhone every time I want to talk to you. I'm sure you'll still enjoy it, though._

 

_You look like you have a vivid imagination._

 

"Michael?" Jack asked cautiously. "D'you want me to leave?" Michael didn't reply. He didn't even move. "I'll… I'll give you some privacy," Jack said, voice faltering. He left the room, hands still clutched uncertainly around the piece of paper.

 

Hands trembling with emotion, Michael picked up the phone, unlocking it and opening the only audio file saved on the device.

 

 _"Hello again, Detective,"_ Ryan's smooth voice began, making Michael clench his jaw painfully as he stood at the foot of his bed.

 

 _"Michael, please don't worry about me too much, I swear he isn't treating me that badly-"_ Gavin's voice became muffled by something, probably Ryan's hand.

 

 _"Now, now, Gavin,"_ Ryan tutted mockingly _. "Don't try too hard to convince him that you're perfectly fine being here. You never know, he might actually believe you, and stop looking for you. Then where would you be?"_

Gavin whimpered.

 

 _"Oh, by the way, Michael, sorry again that this one's just audio. Although, it_  does  _give me the opportunity to have Gavin narrate everything I do to him, so I imagine that could be an interesting exercise, if Gavin_ _-"_ Ryan cut himself off with a sharp cry of pain, then Gavin was shouting, _"Michael, don't listen, please,"_ the words ending with a terrified gasp at the slithering sound of metal.

 

 _"Biting someone is a bit rude, Gavin,"_ Ryan hissed. Michael would have smiled at Gavin's bravery if it wasn't already clear he'd be punished for it. _"Maybe we should revisit the fact that I let you keep all your fingers."_

 

A small whine was Gavin's only response. In his mind's eye, Michael could see Ryan towering over Gavin, holding the blade of his knife against the younger man's throat.

 

 _"Is that really something I'm going to have to do?"_ Ryan asked softly.

 

 _"No, Ryan."_ Gavin's reply was shaky.

 

_"Are you going to be a good boy, and tell Michael what's happening?"_

 

There was a brief moment of silence, then the faintest sound of something shifting, and a short gasp of pain from Gavin. Michael, with no idea what had actually happened, could only assume that Ryan had pressed the knife into Gavin's skin, enough to draw blood. The uncertainty of it all was near maddening, which Michael didn't doubt was the point.

 

 _"Will you?"_ Ryan demanded.

 

 _"…Y-yes, Ryan,"_ Gavin whispered, voice suddenly small and broken.

 

 _"Good."_ There was another sound of shifting fabric, and the faint clatter of the knife hitting the concrete floor. Gavin let out a gasp, and then another pained whine.

 

 _"Don't go breaking your promise already, Gavin,"_ Ryan warned. Michael could only imagine the dangerous look on the older man's face.

 

 _"I'm sorry, Michael,"_ Gavin whispered, his voice becoming more wobbly and uncertain as he went on. _"He's- he's kissing my neck,"_  Gavin continued, swallowing thickly. _"Now he's going along my collarbones too, and - ah! - he's biting a-and giving me hickeys. I-I'm naked already."_ Gavin sounded so ashamed, and it made Michael's heart want to freeze over so that it wouldn't have to deal with the emotions currently ripping it to shreds.

 

The Brit inhaled sharply, the chains attaching him to the bed clinking. _"He's - I'm so sorry, Michael - he's… he's jerking me off now."_ Gavin went quiet, the only sound the gasps and sighs he tried desperately to muffle.

 

 _"Did I say you could stop talking?"_ Ryan purred.

 

 _"I'm sorry,"_ Gavin whimpered, and Michael wasn't sure if the apology was directed at him, or at Ryan. _"H-He's playing with my balls, and - what're you - oh,_ god _, Ryan,"_ Gavin moaned suddenly, chains rattling as his arms tensed. _"Michael, don't listen, please, he's- he's blowing me."_ He let out a sob that quickly morphed into another moan. _"Shit, his tongue is…"_ The rest of the sentence was lost in a series of harsh, panting breaths as Gavin strained against his cuffs. _"Ohhhh,"_ Gavin sighed softly. _"He's f-fingering me, it's so good, Michael don't listen, please, Ryan- Ryan please!"_ Gavin begged, chains clanking together once more.

 

Michael stood rigidly in his room, body hunched over the phone, hand clawed around it.

 

He wanted to obey Gavin. He wanted to stop listening, wanted to stop imagining Ryan having his way with the captive Brit. But his body was frozen, unresponsive except for the short, angry breaths that were making his nostrils flare and his chest heave.

 

 _"He's flipped me over,"_ Gavin said quietly. _"He's behind me, I can feel him- ohhhh, god."_ Gavin groaned, and the phone just barely picked up on the slight grunt from Ryan as the older man bottomed out. The Brit's ability to talk seemed to vanish once more, but the rhythmic tempo of the moans that escaped him instead clearly indicated what was happening.

 

Michael wanted to cry. He normally wasn't the type - indeed, up until recently, he rarely felt any particularly strong need to turn on the waterworks - but now, he could feel the tears building up in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to cry until every past drop of moisture was gone from his body, leaving him a shrivelled husk that wasn't capable of feeling the crippling anguish and sorrow that was threatening to make him scream until his voice stopped working.

 

 _"Tell him how it feels, Gavin."_ Ryan's voice was heavy with lust.

 

_"I don't- Michael, please don't-"_

 

Gavin was asking Michael again to stop listening. The redhead knew that. It didn't stop him from feeling like Gavin was pleading for Michael to make it stop.

 

Tears tracked their way down Michael's cheeks.

 

The sound of Gavin choking made him flinch, fingers tightening impossibly around the phone.

 

 _"That wasn't a suggestion,"_ Ryan growled.

 

 _"Michael,"_ Gavin sobbed. _"I'm sorry, it's… it's so good, he… he hits this spot inside me –_ oh god there _\- and oh fuck, h-he's jerking me off again…"_ Gavin trailed off, breathing in shuddering sighs that made Michael's stomach turn, knowing who was making him sound that way. " _I-I'm so close, Ryan please don’t stop- Ryan!_ " The name was a drawn-out moan, and Michael heard Gavin slump bonelessly on the sheets.

 

 _"You've done well,"_ Ryan murmured approvingly. Michael could almost see him stroking the younger man's hair. " _I think that'll be all for tonight._

_"See you soon, Michael._ "


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one seems a little rushed, I'm just trying to move things along a little more.

Michael stared at the phone silently for a few seconds, shaking with rage. Then, with an animalistic roar, he hurled the phone onto the bed, where it bounced and spun and nearly landed on the floor.  

 

 _"FUCK!"_ he screamed, kicking savagely at the soft part of the box spring of his bed. He let another roar and kicked a few more times, the springs squeaking in protest.  

 

Face red and chest heaving, Michael forced himself to calm down enough to grab a change of clothes without tearing the fabric to shreds. Rage boiled and bubbled under his skin as he yanked his bedroom door open and yelled out to Jack, "Having a shower!" 

 

He then charged down the hallway, fists curled in a death grip around his clean clothing, and slammed the bathroom door behind him.  

 

He dumped his clothes in a haphazard pile on top of the toilet seat, briefly grinding the heels of his palms against his eyelids before turning his shower on, cranking the hot tap full blast and not even touching the cold one.  

 

Steam built up quickly and he stepped under the scalding spray, his pale skin reddening almost instantaneously.  

 

"Go to  _hell_ , you motherfucker Ryan Haywood!" Michael howled, fists striking the tiled shower wall with a painful thud. Michael barely felt it. "Go die in a fucking  _hole_! I hope you die  _on fire_ , and I hope I'm the one that lights the match!"  

 

Michael kept spouting nonsense and punching the wall until the skin over his knuckles split and started bleeding, staining the water circling the shower drain a pale pink. Then he hit the wall a few more times for good measure, leaving bloodied fist prints on the tiles before collapsing against it with a helpless sob, blood streaming from his busted knuckles in rivulets.  

 

He let the water wash over him for a few minutes, slumped in a half-crouch against the wall while his body was periodically wracked by shuddering sobs. Tears burned in his eyes, quickly indistinguishable from the shower water streaming over him.

 

After allowing himself that short breakdown, he went through the motions of washing himself before towelling himself off. Fresh blood welled from the torn skin of his hands, and he was quick to pull out his first aid kit from under the sink to wrap his knuckles with, hastily dressing himself afterwards. He then took a few seconds to compose himself in front of the bathroom mirror. Though there wasn't much he could do about his red, puffy eyes, he scrubbed himself up as best he could, blotting his damp cheeks with his towel. He yanked a comb through his curly hair - which was in need of a cut, but he really wasn't in the mood to have it attended to - before taking a steadying breath, opening the bathroom door to join Jack in the living room.

 

Jack made the tactful decision to not comment on Michael's enraged screaming, even though the detective knew that he would have been able to hear it. Nor did he comment on the bandages wrapped around Michael's hands, but his eyes did soften with concern at the sight.

 

"I've called this in already," Jack told him. "Geoff's sent in a team to come and sweep the place. The phone's still in your room. You… you don't have to go back in there if you don't want to. If there's anything you need in there, I'm happy to get it for you."

 

"It's fine. I'll grab the phone."

 

"Michael," he sighed. "You don't have to. The forensics team can-"

 

"It's just a fucking phone, Jack, I'll be fine. The sooner it gets back to the precinct, the better."

 

Jack didn't look entirely convinced. "If you're sure. I'm just worried about you, that's all. We all want Gavin back, but I know him being gone must be hitting you hardest. And I know that there isn't a whole lot I can do to help how you feel, except help get Gavin back and take Haywood down, but I want to do everything I can."

 

"…I know. Thanks, Jack," he muttered. "I'll grab the phone, then we can go."

 

~* * *~

 

Despite the new piece of evidence, and despite Lindsay's forensics team crawling over every inch of Michael's home, they still weren't any closer to finding Gavin. Days went by, and the only progress they made was to discover that over the past year, Ryan had made a series of large cash withdrawals from his bank account, ones that couldn't be accounted for by his known expenditures. But, due to the untraceable nature of hard cash, this still didn't help them a great deal.

 

Michael got less and less sleep the longer the case remained stagnant. He often worked himself into unconsciousness, only for someone - usually Ray or Geoff - to shake him awake. When he did get more sleep than these short naps at his desk, he was plagued by nightmares of Gavin. Sometimes, the Brit was screaming and pleading for Michael to help. Others, he was still screaming, but with pleasure as Ryan took him from behind, praise for the older man falling from his lips between each satisfied cry.

 

Michael didn't know which was worse.

 

What he knew was definitely making things worse, however, was the lack of any new recordings from Ryan. Even though they'd only received two, they had set a precedent of there being a new recording to be discovered every day, like a twisted sort of scavenger hunt. When one day turned into two, then three, and a new phone still hadn't turned up, Michael worked himself up into more and more of a frenzy. Jack tried to gently remind him that Ryan was the sort to gloat and boast - if Gavin were dead, they would know about it. For even insinuating the possibility, Michael slapped him across the face. Geoff had reprimanded the detective, but Jack begged him to go easy on the younger man, understanding that as Gavin's closest friend and partner, he was taking things much harder than everyone else.

 

A third recording, on another burner phone, had actually shown up at Geoff's house three days after the second one, sometime when the police chief and his wife were both at their respective jobs. In an attempt to protect Michael, Geoff had hidden the recording's existence from the young detective. As much as it pained him to see Michael all but tear his hair in concern over the British detective's absence, Geoff knew it was better for Michael to not hear the recording. Even for the few days he'd been gone, Gavin was already starting to sound like he was accepting that what was happening to him would be how he lived out the rest of his days. Geoff knew that if they didn't find Gavin soon, the Brit would likely give in completely. Ryan would win.

 

The thought terrified him.

 

A little over two days after Geoff had found the phone on his bed, however, one of the techs accidentally let slip that a third phone had shown up. Unsurprisingly, this caused Michael to fly into a rage, the detective going as far as to accuse Geoff of impeding the investigation by keeping the information from him. 

 

Tensions were high, to say the least.

 

"Michael, you need to watch yourself," Geoff warned after the young detective's explosion.

 

But Michael wasn't having any of it. "Or, what, Geoff?" he had hissed. "You'll take me off the case? Fine! Do it! See how quick Haywood decides to finish things if you do. Like you seem to  _love_  telling me, the only reason I got my job back is because  _he_  thought it'd be funny to have me on the case, so I'm sure we'll all have a  _great_  laugh if he found out you'd suspended me again!"

 

With that, he'd stormed away, headed towards Ray's desk. He hadn't had a chance to go home and get changed yet that day, and his temper hadn't made him foolhardy enough to go to his house without someone with him, lest Ryan show up. Going home was the perfect opportunity to blow off some steam. Ray agreed to take him, even though he knew spending more than five seconds in the relatively confined space of a car with Michael would make the air almost unbearably thick with pent-up aggression on the detective's part.

 

Needless to say, Ray got into the driver's seat of his car, because it was all too likely that the curly-haired man would decide that running over random objects as they drove would be a good way to relieve stress, if Ray let him take the wheel.

 

After a tense and silent drive, they arrived, Michael letting them both into the darkened home. He threw open the curtains in the living room for Ray's benefit, but otherwise didn't touch anything on his way to the shower. Then, cursing, he doubled back to his bedroom to grab a change of clothes. Ray regarded him with soft, sympathetic eyes from the living room, but Michael pointedly ignored him.

 

He made quick work of having a shower, the hot spray making him feel irritated rather than relaxing him. He got dressed just as quickly, joining Ray back in the living room.

 

"You okay, man?" The officer eyed him warily. "You actually look worse than before, and that's saying something."

 

Michael glared at a spot on the floor. "I'm just keyed up, y'know? It's almost been a week, and we still have no fucking clue where Gavin is."

 

Unexpected tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, and he kept them averted from Ray's steady gaze.

 

"Hey, we'll find him soon, don't worry." Ray reached over and squeezed him gently on the shoulder. "Did you, I dunno, want to go sit out by yourself for a little while, or something? You haven't really had much time to yourself since this whole thing started - working alone at your desk doesn't count - it'd probably be good for you to have a bit of a break."

 

"You sure?"

 

"Yeah, 'course." Ray waved a hand at him affably. "Relax, I'll be right here. Just go take a couple minutes to yourself."

 

Michael nodded absently, muttering a thanks as he headed for the back door in his kitchen. Once outside, he sat down on one of his wooden deck chairs with a sigh, gazing discontentedly out over his tiny backyard. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd gotten a house instead of an apartment; it certainly would have been easier to keep clean and tidy. As it was, the small deck out back was minimally adorned, just a few chairs and a table. Beyond that, there was a small patch of grass, bare except for the hedges that made up one of his fences, and was much better maintained on his neighbour's side. The grass had grown over the attempt Michael had made at making a flowerbed a few years back, an endeavour that had ended in abysmal failure and the death of every plant he'd introduced to the short-lived garden. At the time, he'd grumbled angrily about the entire ordeal, muttering to himself that flowers were stupid anyway as he'd glared at the final plant to give up hope, a rather pitiful clump of peonies that had eventually slackened its tenacious grip on life, and surrendered to the heat of the summer Texan sun. 

 

It might have just been that Michael had planned to be sharing the house with someone else at a much earlier date, and this thought made him miss Gavin with even deeper clarity. He swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat, a lump made of longing and missed opportunities. Michael wished desperately that Gavin would have admitted the depth of his feelings earlier.  

 

He wished he'd had the chance to tell him just how much those feelings were reciprocated. 

 

"God fucking damn it," he whispered, feeling the tears build in his eyes again as the stresses of the past week caught up to him in one big rush. He pressed his balled fists against his knees, head hanging, struggling not to let the tears stream down his face as he howled his anguish to the sky. Instead, he took deep but shaky breaths, letting each out slowly lest he start sobbing like a child, but despite his best efforts, a few hot streaks of briny liquid dribbled down his cheeks.  

 

Wiping his eyes and his nose, Michael stood, squaring his shoulders and getting himself together before heading back inside.  

 

"Ray, I'm good- well, y'know, better. Let's go," he called out as he made his way to the living room.  

 

His stomach dropped unpleasantly as he got no response.  

 

"…Ray?"  

 

Still nothing. He pulled out his gun and slowly approached the open living room door. As he crept closer, he saw Ray's legs splayed out on the floor, the rest of his body obscured by the wall.  

 

Michael's mouth went dry, and, abandoning all his training and common sense, he charged into the room to check on Ray. He realised the rashness and pure, unbridled stupidity of his action less than a second later, when he saw the figure standing over Ray, a gun trained on the unconscious officer.  

 

"Hey there, Michael." Ryan grinned. "Miss me?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get even worse.

_"You bastard!"_ Michael snarled, immediately making to raise his gun. He froze as Ryan made a disapproving noise and motioned his own gun - _Gavin's gun_ , a small part of Michael's brain noticed with consternation - rather pointedly in Ray's direction.

 

"Not so fast," Ryan tutted. "He's only unconscious for now, but I'll change that if you test me. Now, put down your gun, nice and slow."

 

Michael shook with rage, but gradually lowered his weapon and placed it on the floor as he glared at Ryan, wishing now more than ever that looks actually could kill. But, of course, they didn't, and there was nothing else he could do if he wanted Ray to stay alive. He wouldn't have been able to fire off a shot quickly enough - Ryan's finger was on the trigger, and any false move on Michael's part would see it pulled.

 

"Now kick it to the side."

 

Seething, Michael slipped his foot under the barrel and flicked the firearm away, sending it far out of his reach.

 

"Alright, turn around, hands behind your back."

 

The detective kept Ryan in his line of sight as best he could as his body faced the opposite direction. Turning his back on the psychopath rubbed him completely the wrong way, and when Ryan stepped closer, snagging the handcuffs in Michael's pocket and snapping them onto the curly-haired man's wrists, he hissed, "I'm going to fucking kill you."

 

Ryan simply laughed. "Sorry, but I think you're far too amusing for me to find you scary. After all, you said that I was never going to touch Gavin, and that's pretty much all I've been doing for the past week, so forgive me if I don't find your words threatening."

 

Michael snarled something incomprehensible, suddenly tearing free of Ryan's grip. He whirled around, just in time to see Ryan's gun swinging towards his face. He tried to duck, but he was too slow, the butt of the gun smacking solidly against his head and turning his world black.

 

~* * *~

 

Michael woke to a stinging slap across the face, but when he blinked his eyes open he couldn't see anything. He panicked for a moment before registering the cloth wound over his eyes.

 

"Rise and shine," Ryan mocked from close by, the words echoing slightly in a way that told Michael they were no longer in his living room.

 

"W-where are we?" he asked, hating the way his voice stuttered and cracked.

 

"You wanted to see Gavin, didn't you? Well, here we are."

 

"Gavin?" Michael called out, turning his head blindly. Ryan chuckled.

 

"He's in the next room. Nice and sound-proofed, you see. Wouldn't want to disturb anyone when things get loud, now would we?"

 

"Let him go. You can have me instead."

 

The older man laughed openly. "I  _already_  have you. You're going to have to find another bargaining chip." He laughed again as Michael gritted his teeth and said nothing.

 

"I rather thought so. Now, do you want to see Gavin?"

 

Michael continued to stand in silence. Despite himself, he flinched when Ryan grabbed his jaw firmly, squeezing just hard enough to become painful.

 

"I asked you a question, Michael. If you don't answer, then you can forget about ever seeing him again. Let's try that one more time: do you want to see him?"

 

"Yes," Michael replied, the word strained. Ryan let his jaw go.

 

"Just one rule, and I'll let you in."

 

"What?" Michael forced out through tight, white lips.

 

Ryan's voice dropped dangerously, chilling Michael to the bone. "You make so much as a sound, I will slit Gavin's throat and make you watch him choke on his own blood. It'd be a shame to lose such a pretty little thing like him - I'd probably have to take out my anger on you. Is that clear?"

 

Michael nodded in terrified understanding, then he heard Ryan push against a heavy-sounding door, ushering Michael into the room and letting it close with a strong metallic thud. The fabric disappeared from around his eyes and he blinked in the sudden brightness, eyes almost immediately focusing on the blindfolded figure in their underwear chained to the bed on the far side of the room. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw that Gavin was relatively unharmed - that he even seemed comfortable, hands curled loosely in his lap like they weren't attached to the headboard of the bed with a long chain.

 

Gavin's head swivelled towards the sound of the door closing. "Ryan? Is that you?" he asked anxiously.

 

"Of course," Ryan replied warmly. "Who else would it be?"

 

Michael felt something in himself curl up and die as Gavin visibly relaxed, a relieved smile breaking out across the Brit's features.

 

"You were gone a while. I was getting a little worried."

 

"Just had some stuff to take care of," Ryan replied, leading Michael to the second bed and silently reminding the younger man to stay quiet as he attached Michael's cuffs to the headboard. With one last shushing motion, he sauntered over to Gavin's bed, springs bouncing as it accommodated for his weight. "You in the mood?"

 

Gavin grinned in a way that made Michael's stomach coil. "Definitely. Can you take my blindfold off?"

 

"Why don't we keep it on for now?"

 

Michael wanted to scream at Gavin to refuse Ryan, but knew it would mean the other man's death if he made any sort of noise. He could only watch, raging silently and impotently as Gavin shrugged in acquiescence, putting his hands over his head and gripping onto his chains as he leaned back.

 

"Okay."

 

The auburn-haired detective averted his eyes just before Gavin and Ryan's lips met, but couldn't do anything to block out the sound of passionate kissing. He was far too terrified that if he grabbed the pillow under his head to try and muffle his ears, he'd accidentally make his chains clank. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he caused Gavin's death.

 

His jaw quickly began to ache from how tightly his teeth were clenched. He heard the fabric of Gavin's covers shifting as the Brit moaned and pressed up against the older man. The chain connecting Gavin to the headboard clinked slightly with each movement, and the younger man moaned again. Michael heard the wet sound of kissing continue, but Gavin's moans were no longer muffled. With a shudder, Michael realised that Ryan was kissing and sucking marks onto Gavin's neck, and could even see the older man's head moving at the very edge of his periphery. Slowly and carefully, Michael turned his head to the side so that he could stare at the wall instead. Although he was glad that he no longer had to deal with the visual of Gavin being kissed by a psychopath, it left him with nothing to distract him from his tumultuous thoughts.

 

How could Gavin have given in so easily? It had barely been a week, yet the Brit had seemed concerned by Ryan's absence, even glad for his return. The only thought that comforted Michael even remotely was the possibility that Gavin was putting on an act to make things easier for himself. Even in his head, though, that idea rang hollow. Gavin wasn't a good actor, if his inability to tell a convincing lie was any indication. But Michael clung to it stubbornly, because accepting that Gavin was genuinely enjoying anything about being held captive by a serial killer was simply too painful to bear.

 

Gavin moaned once more, making Michael clench his teeth all the harder to stop himself from screaming his outrage. Having the video and audio clips of Ryan fucking Gavin had been bad enough, but knowing that it was happening right then and there, barely a few meters from him, was a thousand times worse. Hot tears stung at his eyelids, and he let them fall, leaving cold trails on his skin in their wake. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life.

 

Michael heard another shift of fabric, and Gavin's sudden intake of breath, petering out into a long sigh.

 

"Want me to take care of that?" Gavin asked, low and breathy. Ryan chuckled.

 

"I think we both know the answer to that question."

 

The fact that Gavin was  _offering_ shattered Michael's fragile hope that the Brit didn't actually like being with Ryan. Michael could barely believe his ears. He didn't  _want_  to believe it was happening, but then he heard Gavin's chains rattle as the Brit shifted on the bed, heard the slide of fabric as Ryan undressed, heard the wet, sensual sound of lips wrapping around hot flesh.

 

Gavin was giving Ryan a blowjob.

 

The older man sighed in pleasure, settling against the bed with a slight rustle. Michael's ears burned as the sucking noise continued, mortified with just the vaguest hint of ashamed arousal. He berated himself harshly for the sensation, despite knowing it was just a product of the fact that he wanted Gavin to be with  _him_  instead of Ryan.

 

"Oh,  _Gavin_ ," Ryan murmured, the approval in his voice making Michael cringe. "You're so good for me, aren't you?"

 

Gavin hummed happily in the affirmative, and Ryan groaned as the vibrations travelled along his length. Michael felt another small part of himself wither and die, leaving a hollow, gaping hole inside his chest. Another fat tear rolled down his cheeks and he crushed his eyelids together, forcing himself not to make a sound as he sobbed into the pillow.

 

The sound of the cap of a bottle of lube being opened echoed dully off the concrete walls, and Michael hunched in on himself as Gavin groaned around Ryan's cock, Ryan's fingers sliding slickly into Gavin's entrance as he leaned over the younger man's back. Gavin let out a string of quiet mewls and moans as Ryan worked his fingers in and out of Gavin's hole. After a few minutes of this, Gavin pulled off the older man's cock with a slight pop, panting heavily.

 

"Ryan- Ryan please," he gasped, the words desperate and keening.

 

"What is it, Gavin? Want me to fuck you?" Ryan replied, his voice almost a growl.

 

"Oh, god,  _yes_ , please Ryan," Gavin whimpered, and if the Brit's eyes hadn't been covered by a blindfold, Michael knew he'd be staring up at Ryan with a pleading puppy-dog look.

 

"Well, you  _are_  always so polite about it," Ryan murmured. "How can I say no?"

 

Michael flinched at the sound of a condom wrapper being torn, a fresh set of tears trickling down his cheeks as Gavin groaned Ryan's name. The rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh made Michael twitch and curl up into a ball, trying in vain to scrunch his shoulders high enough to cover his ears, and block out the sound of Gavin moaning and sighing in pleasure at every thrust. Every minute that ticked by just made Michael draw up into the foetal position all the more tightly, his eyes squeezed shut and his whole body wracked by silent, shuddering sobs.

 

"Ryan- please, I'm so close-" Gavin groaned.

 

"Come for me, Gavin," the older man whispered, and Gavin screamed as he jetted his load against the sheets. Ryan hit his own orgasm almost simultaneously, grunting as he buried himself deep inside Gavin and released into the condom. Michael heard them both slump against the bed, breathing hard.

 

Ryan stood after his breathing calmed a little, dressing himself while Gavin continued to suck in jagged gulps of air, struggling to get his racing heartbeat under control.

 

"Let's get that blindfold off you, shall we?" Ryan leaned in close and unwound the fabric around the Brit's eyes. Gavin looked up at him adoringly for about a second before he caught sight of the figure hunched up on the bed across the room. The small smile on his face dropped as he recognised his partner's unruly curls.

 

"M-Michael?" he whispered, staring for a few moments before turning horrified eyes on Ryan.

 

The older man simply smirked, heading for the door and calling back over his shoulder, "I'll give you two some time to catch up."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually quite concerned with how this chapter will be received - I don't know, I just feel it didn't really achieve what I wanted it to. That being said, I do tend to be my own harshest critic, so hopefully you guys still like it. Let me know if there's anything you think I could have done better, and I'll see if I'm able to go about revising the chapter.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Gavin asked quietly as he covered himself with his hands, suddenly self-conscious in his nakedness.

 

Michael practically exploded. "Because he fucking threatened to cut your throat open if I let on that I was here! Like hell I was going to let him kill you, asshole!"

 

Whatever reaction Michael had been expecting, it wasn't for Gavin to get confused and shake his head vehemently.

 

"No, he wouldn't do that."

 

The redhead stared. "Gavin," he said slowly, as if talking to a particularly stupid child, "He's a fucking serial killer."

 

"Well, yeah, but… he's different with me." Gavin gestured vaguely at his bed. "He didn't do this with any of the others."

 

"Oh, he's treating you special, so that makes it okay?" Michael snapped sarcastically. "So- so because you're his  _fucktoy_ now, you think he isn't gonna kill you once he gets bored? You think he isn't going to kill  _both_  of us? Huh?" He felt the tears start up again, and he angrily scrubbed his eyes against his shoulder. "Or have you  _conveniently_  forgotten that he was going to  _cut your fucking fingers off_  to make Geoff give me my job back?"

 

Gavin subconsciously covered the thin red line at the base of his left pinkie finger, largely healed in the time the Brit had spent as Ryan's captive. "He was just trying to help you. It's not like he was asking for Geoff to give him anything. Geoff should've just unsuspended you straight away, and Ryan wouldn't have had to hurt me."

 

"You're blaming  _Geoff_?" Michael all but screamed in disbelief. "You ungrateful piece of  _shit_. He's going  _grey_  from all the stress he's been putting himself under trying to find you!"

 

"Well, you couldn't have been trying all that hard, if it's been this long, and Ryan brought you here before you even found me yourself!" Gavin retorted.

 

"Fuck you," Michael said, voice shaking. "Everyone at the precinct's been busting their asses for the past week looking for you."

 

This only seemed to make Gavin madder. "Oh, a  _week_? Nice to know it took you so long to even bother to start searching!"

 

Michael's brow furrowed. "What the hell does that mean? We started as soon as…" he trailed off, realisation creeping up on him. There were no windows in the room, no clocks, no way for Gavin to tell the time… except for whatever Ryan might have told him. "Gavin?" he asked carefully. "How long have you been here?"

 

"What d'you mean, how long have I been here?" Gavin glared. "I thought you cared about me, but you can't even remember how damn long I've been gone for!"

 

"Answer the question, Gavin."

 

"About two months, I'm not sure exactly," the Brit muttered.

 

"…No, Gavin," Michael said softly, his anger melting into sorrow. "Haywood took you last week."

 

"What? No, that can't be right." Gavin shook his head again, but Michael could see the faintest flicker of doubt in his eyes.

 

"Think about it, Gavin. There's absolutely no way for you to tell time down here. I promise you, whatever Haywood's told you about how long you've been gone, he was lying. It's really only been a week. A little less, actually." Michael laughed without humour. "I thought it felt longer than it was, but I guess that it's nothing compared to what it's been like for you."

 

Gavin blinked rapidly, breath hitching as he kept his eyes glued to the floor. "He said you must've given up on me by now… I... I believed him," he admitted quietly.

 

Michael ached to be able to wrap his arms around Gavin, just to hold the other man until all the hurt went away. He tugged uselessly at the chains tethering him to his bed. Never had a few meters seemed such a great distance.

 

"I'd never give up on you, Gavin. I would've kept looking 'til I found you, or died trying. I promise."

 

There was another shuddering gasp from Gavin as he blinked back tears, staring at the healed-over cut on his hand. "Y'know, I thought this was taking a bloody long time to heal up," he said eventually, indicating to the injury with a puff of air that could barely be described as a laugh. "I guess if anything, it actually healed up pretty damn quickly." He let out a chuckle that ended in a sad sniff. "God, I'm so dumb. I should've figured it out."

 

"Hey, Gav, Gavin. Look at me," Michael ordered, gently but firmly. "There was no way you could know. You didn't really have much choice but to believe what Haywood told you."

 

"Michael, I think I love him," Gavin blurted. Michael's heart skipped a beat in protest.

 

_"What?!"_

 

"I know it's insane," Gavin defended quickly. "I mean, you and I both know better than anyone that he's not a good person. But damn, Michael… he's still nice and charming, and-and he listens to what I have to say, and he's really smart and he's-"

 

"A good fuck?" Michael supplied flatly, anger and hopelessness and a sense of crushing inadequacy creeping up on him. He should have found Gavin sooner.

 

The way Gavin's cheeks burned was enough of an answer. "…I know I shouldn't feel this way about him," he continued quietly. "I know how wrong it is, believe me. I just feel so conflicted and…" he blushed even harder, the words suddenly tumbling from his mouth at high velocity, "…the fact that I think I love  _you_  too is just making things even more confusing." He buried his face in his hands. "Oh god, this is so messed up.  _I'm_  so messed up. What's wrong with me? Why did this have to happen?"

 

Michael's head reeled with the new information. "Gavin, I…" he began uncertainly, but was cut off by the door opening.

 

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Ryan said cheerfully, in a way that made Michael ninety-nine percent sure that the serial killer was well aware that that was exactly what he was doing.

 

"You are," Michael growled. "Fuck off."

 

With a grin, Ryan stepped fully into the room, brandishing two bowls of soup. "Oh, so was I wrong in thinking you two would want dinner?"

 

At the sight of food, Michael's stomach growled loudly. He hadn't exactly had a decent breakfast that day, nor had he eaten anything since being kidnapped - how long that actually was remained a mystery to him, due to the aforementioned lack of methods to tell time. Knowing that Ryan was likely pulling the same sort of mind tricks he'd been employing on Gavin for the past week, Michael figured that it probably wasn't really dinnertime yet, but it was certainly close enough that the sight of food was making his stomach vociferously complain about its emptiness, cramps suddenly gnawing at his sides. Reasoning that there was no point in starving himself for the sake of his pride if it meant that he'd be too weak to take up any future opportunities at escape, Michael gritted his teeth and said, "Fine. It can wait."

 

Even though it really couldn't, but like hell was Michael going to have that discussion with Gavin when Ryan was still in the room. The sadistic fuck would probably get off to how uncomfortable Michael would be knowing that the older man was listening to every word. He accepted the bowl and spoon grudgingly, having to hunch over awkwardly to eat due to the short length of chain attaching him to the bed. Gavin, who had a longer chain, was able to comfortably nestle his bowl in his lap. The soup was cold, and had clearly come from a can, but it was still palatable.

 

The fact that the food was something that didn't require any real sort of preparation, and had a decently long shelf life, made Michael concerned for just how long Ryan planned for this to go on. He didn't doubt the next room over was stocked with enough supplies to last them a good while before Ryan had to go out and buy anything new. The notion that Ryan might not have any need to leave wherever it was they were hidden for weeks, or even months, was quite frankly terrifying.

 

Despite the food he'd just consumed, Michael's stomach felt hollower than it had before.

 

Once they'd both finished, Ryan collected the bowls from them without a word and left the room, the barest hint of an odd smile on his face. It unnerved Michael, though he couldn't exactly place why.

 

"Gavin," he said instead, shaking off the feeling. "What you were saying just now… Fuck, I don't know if saying this will make things better or worse, but I feel like I should get it off my chest, y'know?" He took a deep breath, carefully gauging Gavin's reaction. "…I feel the same way about you, too."

 

Gavin was silent for a few seconds, his face an indecipherable jumble of emotions. "What do we do now?" he asked quietly, rather than addressing the mess that was his feelings at that moment in time.

 

"We find a way to escape," Michael replied, eyes hard and mouth firm.

 

The other detective seemed uncertain. "How?"

 

Michael bit his lip. "…I don't know yet. But we've got to figure something out, Gavin. We can't stay here forever. I know you don't believe me, but he _will_  kill us eventually. And even if he didn't, d'you really want to stay locked in this room forever?"

 

"He might let us out after a while, if we behave," Gavin muttered.

 

"Do you even  _hear_  yourself?" A hint of acerbity crept into Michael's tone. "We're not fucking  _dogs_. People aren't meant to live like this." He paused briefly. "And I know you don't want to hear it, but there's a possibility we'll have to kill him before we can get out." Michael didn't add that if this was at all an option, he probably wouldn't hesitate to take that chance. "I won't ask you to do it, unless you absolutely have to, but I just want you to realise it might happen if we want to get out of here alive. Okay?"

 

Gavin nodded, not meeting his eyes. "I'm knackered, I'm going to go to sleep," he announced, curling up and facing away from Michael, falling asleep almost instantly.

 

Michael frowned. The Brit  _never_  went to sleep that quickly. Even when Gavin crashed on Michael's couch after a particularly wild night of drinking, Gavin always tossed and turned for a solid half hour before he decided he was comfortable enough to go to sleep.

 

His vision unfocused slightly and Michael felt himself falling back against his bed, suddenly exhausted. It felt like there were one-tonne weights dragging down on his eyelids, his arms leaden.

 

With a concerted effort, Michael's eyes flickered open, wide with the realisation of what had happened.

 

That stupid goddamn smirk on Ryan's face as he collected their empty bowls of soup.

 

Soup that Michael hadn't even  _thought_  to question while his stomach growled at him for sustenance.

 

"That motherfucker," he swore, and soon after lost the battle with his heavy eyelids, plunging him into drugged unconsciousness.

 

~* * *~

 

"Ow… what the fuck was that?" Ray groaned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

 

His fingers came away sticky with blood.

 

"Shit." He whipped his head around, then groaned again as the action caused a severe pounding to flare at the point of injury, radiating through his skull and throbbing dully behind his eyes. A knot of fear tightened in his stomach at the familiarity of the situation.  _Please no. Not again._

 

"Michael?" he called out, his voice a touch hysterical. There was no answer.

 

He leapt to his feet, staggering a moment while cradling his aching head before he regained his balance. "Michael?" he called out again, louder and more panicked this time, but the response was still the same - complete and utter silence. Ray dashed through the small house, searching every conceivable spot where the detective could be and shouting his name all the while, but to no avail. He returned to the living room alone, fingers buried deep in his thick black hair as he swore repeatedly under his breath.

 

There was really only one valid explanation for what had happened.

 

With shaking hands, Ray dug into his pocket for his phone, fumbling with it for a few seconds before scrolling through his contacts and selecting his boss' number.

 

The phone picked up on the third ring.

 

"Geoff?" Ray began hesitantly. "I… I fucked up." He pushed his glasses up his face, rubbing at his eyes. "It has to be Haywood, he… he must've got in, I didn't realise he was there and… shit, Geoff, I'm so sorry, I should've done better than this." He took a deep, shuddering breath, fingers tangling painfully in his hair once more. "Michael's gone."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I got unexpectedly busy and didn't have the time to finish this chapter. All done now, though, so enjoy!

"Quiet now, Gavin," Michael heard Ryan murmur as the redhead woke slowly, a hint of deviousness to the older man's tone. "You wouldn't want to wake him, would you?"

 

There was desperate, muffled sound from Gavin, a long groan smothered by his pillow. Michael struggled to remain still, to keep his breathing steady. He didn't want either man to know he was awake yet. He didn't want Ryan to rub in his face the fact that for as long as the older man was around, there would be no way for Michael to have Gavin.

 

He didn't want to see the guilt on Gavin's face for enjoying himself while Michael was forced to watch, losing out to pleasure as Ryan drove the Brit to orgasm.

 

But, now that he was awake, there was nothing he do to stop himself from hearing Gavin's smothered sounds of pleasure, Ryan's low voice praising him all the while as the Brit lapped up every word. He tried not to flinch as Gavin muffled another drawn-out moan, slightly louder and deeper than the rest, signifying that the Brit had come against his sheets.

 

"There you go," Ryan whispered, sounding satisfied. Gavin made another quiet sound, this one more of a whimper, and the springs of Gavin's bed creaked as Ryan's weight left them. Through some miracle, Michael kept himself from tensing as the heavy door thudded shut.

 

Gavin's breathing was still a little ragged, every other breath hitching with a lazy, satisfied hum that made Michael's stomach turn sour. He was incredibly glad when the Brit's breathing returned to a normal rhythm, slowing gradually as Gavin reached that state of post-orgasmic drowsiness. Michael waited until Gavin had cracked a few yawns before moving, making a show of pretending to stir from a deep slumber. His spine arched and popped, and he went to pull his hands forward, only to be stopped by the chain attaching him to the headboard. He made himself look angry, like in his tiredness he'd forgotten the situation he was in and had just remembered.

 

It wasn't a particularly difficult emotion to summon.

 

"Hi, Michael," Gavin said softly, awkwardly, the briefest flash of guilt over what had transpired between himself and Ryan a few minutes previous flitting across his face.

 

 _Good_ , a savage part of Michael's mind thought, the same part that hated Gavin for giving up, for still submitting to Ryan without putting up even a token resistance, despite the fact that Michael was right there in the room with them.

 

The rest of Michael told that part of his mind to kindly shut the fuck up.

 

"Good- whatever the fuck time of day it is, who knows down here. And not really good, either. This is all kinds of not good. Fifty shades of fucked up." He tried to crack a grim smile, but even without seeing it he knew it looked more he was grimacing in pain. "We've gotta get out of here, Gav."

 

"Had any ideas yet?" Gavin asked, not quite meeting Michael's eyes. Michael almost cursed at how obvious it was that Gavin still wasn't one hundred percent on wanting to leave the room they were prisoners in.

 

"I've been asleep, asshole. I'm not gonna be planning shit in my dreams."

 

"So that's a no, then?"

 

"…It's a not yet."

 

"Did you sleep okay?" Gavin ventured after a few moments of solid, uncomfortable silence, the quiet curling around them like a thick blanket that smothered their senses and made it difficult to breathe. It didn't help that Michael knew exactly where the awkwardness was coming from.

 

"Alright, I guess, for being chained to a bed all night." Subconsciously, he tugged on his cuffs, but of course they held firm. "How 'bout you, how long have you been up?" he asked, then added before he could stop himself, "Has Haywood been in yet?"

 

Gavin's eyes, which had only just met his, slid away once more. "Not long, I don't think. And he hasn't yet."

 

Michael didn't want to call Gavin out on his lie, knowing the Brit would feel terrible if he found out Michael had been awake the whole time. So he let the silence settle heavily over them again, staring at the ceiling as he wracked his brain for a potential method of escape.

 

By the time Ryan returned, he was still coming up empty.

 

"Hello, Michael. I trust you slept well."

 

The redhead glared. "Only 'cause you drugged the soup, you dickhead."

 

Gavin looked suddenly confused and conflicted. "Wait, you did?"

 

Ryan smiled benignly and spread his hands. "Only because I knew you'd never get to sleep otherwise. After all, you went through quite a bit the other day."

 

Michael snorted even as Gavin looked content with Ryan's answer. "Yeah. Right. That's why," he muttered, shifting on the bed. He couldn't help but glance at Ryan's face for a fleeting second, saw the calm smile had morphed into a smug grin, and felt his heart sink at the expression.

 

The older man knew that Michael had been awake for Ryan's little 'session' with Gavin earlier.

 

Gritting his teeth and squaring his shoulders, Michael resolutely kept his gaze fixed on the covers in front of him.

 

"Anyway," Ryan continued cheerily, "I just realised that I didn't show you where you could go to the toilet. I figured you would probably want to go soon."

 

Michael's mind raced. There weren't any sort of bathroom facilities in the room they were in - he could only assume that there were some next door, and that Ryan would unchain him from the bed if he needed to use them. Maybe Michael could coordinate with Gavin, have one of them go and the other create some sort of distraction that would divide Ryan's attention and allow whoever wasn't chained to the bed to overcome the older man-

 

With a flourish, Ryan pulled a bucket out from under Michael's bed.

 

The redhead stared at it. "You're fucking joking. There's no way I'm using that."

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow as he straightened up. "It's the only option you have. Unless you want to go in your pants, that is. And I don't have any clean spares for you to change into, but if you're prepared to deal with that, by all means."

 

Michael scowled. Now that Ryan had pointed out the need, Michael couldn't really ignore the insistent pressure on his bladder. He needed to swallow his pride, or he would actually end up pissing his pants quite soon. "…Fine. I'm not going with you right fucking there, though."

 

Shrugging amicably, Ryan turned and left the room. Michael's head swung towards Gavin. "Your situation any different for this?"

 

The Brit shook his head. "'S not that bad, though. He empties it pretty regularly."

 

"Gavin, this is fucking disgusting. He really is just treating us like a couple of animals, how can't you see that?"

 

Gavin looked away. "You probably want to use your bucket. I'll give you some privacy." He rolled onto his side, facing away from Michael, and the redhead sighed angrily.

 

Muttering, he shuffled his way up the bed until that his fingers were close enough to the zipper on his jeans to undo them, then stood awkwardly from the bed, arms stretched out and legs bent at an uncomfortable angle in order to properly direct himself at the bucket without the use of his hands. After a moment's delay, the sound of a stream of liquid hitting plastic echoed dully off the walls, quickly morphing into a watery burble as the bucket filled somewhat. His cheeks burned with humiliation that he was forced to either do this or piss his pants, and he had to take care to not let his anger make his movements harsh as he gently nudged the bucket back under his bed with his feet. He clambered back onto his bed, relieving the strain on his arms, and zipped himself back up before rolling over onto his back. He shook his head slightly as he stared up at the ceiling.

 

"We  _have_  to get out of here."

 

~* * *~

 

Ray's fingers trembled as they closed around the steering wheel of his car. The vehicle rolled down Michael's driveway and onto the street, heading for the precinct. He tightened his grip until his knuckles went white, but the tremors were still there, vibrating up his arms as he struggled not to cry, or hyperventilate, or both.

 

God, he'd fucked up so badly.

 

When he'd called Geoff, the police chief had barely said anything except for muttering a few forceful expletives under his breath, before rather tersely ordering Ray to return to the precinct. Ray knew that the quiet was deceptive, and that the older man was going to tear him a new asshole as soon as he got back.

 

And he deserved it.

 

He couldn't believe he'd let this happen. He should have known better than to let Michael out of his sight for even a second. Now two of his closest friends were in the hands of a psychopath, and both times he felt he was at least partially to blame, seeing as neither time had he had his wits about him enough to realise what was going on before Ryan knocked him out.

 

He eased to a stop at a red light, letting out a shaky breath as he rested his forehead against his steering wheel, closing his eyes and not opening them again until the cars behind him started honking at him to politely let him know the light had changed. He agitatedly flipped them the bird through the back window and stamped on the accelerator, a little torn between delaying the inevitable and getting it over with as fast as possible, eventually settling on the latter as the speedometer rapidly ticked up towards the speed limit.

 

All too soon, Ray found himself pulling into the precinct parking lot, wiping his sweaty, shaky palms on his uniform before going inside. His head hung low, shoulders hunched as his feet dragged him towards Geoff's office. He felt like everyone he passed was staring, glaring, blaming him for the loss of the two detectives as much as he was blaming himself.

 

Hesitantly, he knocked of Geoff's door, waiting for the older man to tell him to come in before opening the door. He gulp forcibly as he entered the room, clasping his hands together in an effort to make their trembling less noticeable.

 

Geoff looked tired and angry at the universe, haggard lines drawn on his face that hadn't been there just a week previous. He stabbed his finger at the chair on the opposite side of the desk, standing up from his own seat to tower over Ray. "Sit," he ordered.

 

Ray sat.

 

"Tell me what happened."

 

Ray fidgeted, eyes cast at his lap. It felt like he was sitting in the principal's office in school, only so much worse. "Me and Michael were just about to head back here, but he looked like crap." His cheeks burned with shame. "I told him to go sit in the backyard, y'know, take a little time to himself, but… Haywood must've got into the house while Michael was inside and knocked me out."

 

Geoff's brows snapped dangerously low over his eyes, leaning over the desk. Ray shrank back involuntarily, shoulders hunching. "You did  _what_? You left Michael  _alone_? It was your  _job_  to protect him, Narvaez! That's twice now you've let Haywood get the best of you." His eyes narrowed suddenly. "I'm wondering if that's too much of a coincidence."

 

Ray's eyes went wide, his face suddenly pale. "…Geoff, I wouldn't," he whispered, horrified at the accusation. "They're two of my best friends, I would never let them get hurt on purpose." He wrapped his arms around himself, gaze dropping again. "But I might as well have. Haywood still got them both, and I don't care what anyone says, it's my fault. I would never help him, but I definitely didn't stop him."

 

All energy suddenly seemed to drain from Geoff, and he slumped heavily into his chair. "No, I'm sorry, Ray. I'd do just about anything to get our boys back, but that doesn't mean it was okay for me to accuse you of that. I know you wouldn't." He sighed heavily, seeming to age another few years in the span of a few seconds. "It's just that we've had next to no breaks in this case. We've got no leads, and it was probably a waste of time to send that forensics team to Michael's. It fucking terrifies me that it's looking more and more like we'll only find them once Haywood's done with them. We're gonna keep putting everything we have into this case, but I'm not sure it'll be enough."

 

Ray went even paler. "But we'll find them before he can kill them, right?" His voice hitched almost imperceptibly before the last few words.

 

Geoff didn't meet his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know. I just don't know."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things ramp up even more in this one! This is actually the second-to-last chapter. In all likelihood, there will be an epilogue, but then that will be it. I don't know about you, but I'm excited.
> 
> Content warnings for smut.

"Bath time!" Ryan announced, carrying two buckets, a large plastic tray, a set of towels and a sponge into the room.

 

Michael looked at him blankly. "What."

 

The older man ignored him, carrying his burden over to Gavin's bed. Clearly having already gone through this routine a few times already, Gavin shuffled to one side of his bed, giving Ryan space to place the tray down before promptly stripping off his underwear and climbing in. Ryan dipped the sponge into one of the buckets and it came back out dripping, slightly sudsy as he rubbed slow circles onto Gavin's back. The water trickled down Gavin's skin into the tray he was sitting in, goosebumps prickling up underneath the trails.

 

Michael turned away, and before too long he heard the soft rustle of Ryan towelling Gavin down, the Brit slipping his underwear back on as Ryan lifted the tray from the bed, pouring the dirty water into the second bucket. The redhead's head snapped up suddenly as he heard footsteps approaching his bed, and glared as Ryan approached him.

 

"Don't you fucking touch me," he growled. Ryan raised an eyebrow and set his things down, wordlessly pulling his knife from its little sheath in his back pocket.

 

Michael went pale. He hadn't realised the older man still had the blade on him. Ryan approached, and he scrambled backwards inasmuch as he could, arms stretched in front of him and still tethered to the headboard. The serial killer came closer and closer, then his hand shot out and tangled in the fabric of Michael's shirt.

 

He couldn't help but flinch as Ryan's knife snicked through the tops of his sleeves, then sliced through the front of his shirt, the ruined fabric falling away. Michael's face contorted with anger; his chest heaved with it, only tempered by the fact that Ryan was levelling the blade at his throat.

 

He  _really_  didn't like the appraising glint in the older man's eyes as they raked over his half-naked body.

 

After a few tense seconds, Ryan pulled away with a small smirk, and Michael tried not to let his relief show too much as the knife slid back into its sheath. He turned. "Gavin, would you like to do the honours?" he asked nonchalantly, already walking back over to the other bed.

 

The Brit seemed stunned. "If it's alright with you." Ryan offered him a warm smile and moved towards Gavin's cuffs, gently working the buckle free. Michael stared in disbelief as the leather slipped from around Gavin's wrists and the Brit just continued to  _sit_  there. The redhead wanted to scream for Gavin to move, to run, to get out of whatever hellhole it was that Ryan was keeping them in. Michael could deal with any punishment that Ryan came up with, as long as it meant that Gavin was no longer in his clutches.

 

"Go ahead," Ryan said softly, standing back and indicating to the washing up tools. "I don't think he wants me anywhere near him," he added with a wry sadness that made Michael scoff. As if the psychopath was at all upset or surprised that Michael hated him.

 

Gavin clambered shakily to his feet, not really having done a whole lot of standing for the past week. With limbs somewhat akin to a newborn foal's, Gavin tottered over to Michael's bed, though his steps did grow more assured as he crossed the small space, collecting the bathing implements as he went. He set the bucket and the tray and the towels down beside the bed, gripping the damp sponge like a lifeline. He turned to Ryan. "I don't think he wants you here," he said quietly. Ryan raised an eyebrow at this, but promptly pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against and headed for the door. Michael's eyes were wide with disbelief as the door clicked shut behind him.

 

Ryan didn't actually think that Michael wouldn't be able to convince Gavin to set him free, surely?

 

"Gavin," he whispered urgently, even though he knew his words wouldn't carry well enough through the soundproofed door for Ryan to be able to hear them. "Gavin, undo my cuffs. This is our best shot at getting out of here."

 

Gavin looked conflicted, knowing that if he undid Michael's cuffs, there was no way he was putting them back on. "Let me clean you first," he replied evasively, avoiding Michael's eyes.

 

"We don't have time for this," he hissed, stomach sinking as he realised that he might have misjudged Gavin's desire to leave. "Haywood could come back any second."

 

But Gavin shook his head. "He said he'd give you privacy while I gave you a wash."

 

"And you believe him?" He snorted derisively. "Oh wait, that's right, of course you do."

 

Gavin clutched at the sponge, looking miserable. "He hasn't lied to you yet, has he?" he murmured quietly, and Michael bit his lip. He had to give Gavin that one.

 

"Ugh, fine. But I swear, if you're still fucking around with that sponge when he comes back in, I'm gonna kick you in the goddamn throat."

 

With a mute nod, Gavin's hands dropped to the waistband of Michael's jeans, blushing as he popped the button, undoing the zipper and dragging the denim down Michael's legs. His socks got caught up as his pants were taken off, and Gavin pushed it all to the end of the bed. He turned back, blush intensifying as he reached for Michael's boxers.

 

Michael looked away as Gavin peeled off his underwear. He'd wanted the first time the Brit undressed him to be so different.

 

Gavin lifted the tray onto the bed and Michael clambered in, knees going to his chest as Gavin picked up the bucket, dunking the sponge inside before pressing it to Michael's shoulders. The redhead couldn't help the sigh that escaped him as Gavin described soft circles on his back.

 

Even though the water was lukewarm, it felt fantastic to be cleaned.

 

When Gavin had told him he'd thought that Ryan had had him locked away for more than two months, Michael hadn't been able to comprehend how the Brit could have possibly thought he'd been gone for quite that long. Now that he was stuck in the same position - in a room that never changed, no windows, no clocks, the light that never turned off - Michael had already lost all sense of bearing on the passage of time. He could have been gone for three days or thirteen, and he honestly doubted that he would have been able to tell the difference if he hadn't been given the opportunity to be clean. He'd felt gross, the accumulated sweat and grime from however long he'd been kidnapped for sloughing off his skin, dirty water trickling into the pail he was crouched in.

 

It was a little awkward when Gavin washed him further down, and it certainly wasn't as effective as a proper bath would have been - Gavin hadn't bothered with his hair, so it was still a greasy mess - but Michael still couldn't believe how incredible it felt to be at least moderately clean. Gavin laid the towel next to the tray, and Michael hopped out onto it, dripping slightly. Gavin draped the towel around him as best he could, then picked up the tray, pouring the dirty water into the bucket and leaving both on the floor.

 

Getting Michael clothed again was difficult, but Gavin managed it after a few minutes. Michael griped at several points that things would go a lot faster if Gavin just undid his cuffs, which made Gavin's ears burn but he made no movements to comply, instead zipping Michael's jeans back up again.

 

"There, I'm clean and dressed. For fuck's sake, Gavin, get these goddamn cuffs off me."

 

The Brit's hand hovered indecisively by the buckle of one of Michael's cuffs. The auburn-haired detective wanted to scream at him to just undo it already, but just as he was about to give Gavin another verbal berating, the door clicked open. Gavin pulled his hand back like he'd been burned, and Michael let loose a flurry of profanity in the safety of his mind.

 

"Bet you feel better after that," Ryan said as he walked in, collecting the pail and buckets from the floor and taking them into the other room. Moments later, he returned, giving the two detectives an amused look. "Gavin, why don't you go back to your own bed, there's a good boy."

 

Indecision continued to reign supreme on Gavin's features, but eventually he drew back, allowing Ryan to cuff him to the bed once more. Michael muttered several choice words under his breath in his disbelief.

 

They'd been so close. They could have  _escaped_. Gavin had free, and he could have so easily uncuffed Michael. God, Michael wanted to punch him right in the stupid mouth. Then kill Ryan. Slowly. Then probably punch Gavin again, just for good measure.

 

And then kiss the Brit until he realised that Michael was the one who actually loved him, not Ryan, because Michael was still so desperately head-over-heels for the other detective despite the fact that he was currently being the most frustrating dumbass on the planet.

 

Ryan smiled as he slipped the second cuff gently around Gavin's wrist, firmly shackling him to the bed once more. He ran his fingers along the curve of Gavin's jawline. "Such a good boy, doing what you're told even when I'm not here," he praised. "I think that's earned you a little more freedom in the future."

 

Smile spreading into a smirk, Ryan's eyes dropped to Gavin's neck, and Michael turned away, already knowing where this was going.

 

"Oh, and Michael," Ryan called out unexpectedly, the younger man freezing momentarily at the sound of Ryan's knife slowly rasping from its sheath. Michael almost got whiplash from how quickly he turned back around, only to see Ryan pointing the knife at the hollow of Gavin's neck. "You're going to watch this time, or the consequences will be… unpleasant."

 

"But I know you wouldn't hurt me," Gavin murmured, looking largely unfazed by the fact that there was a knife to his throat. If anything, he looked a little turned on by it.

 

Ryan smiled fondly, stroking Gavin's hair with his free hand. "I know  _you_  trust me, Gav, but  _he_ doesn't."

 

"Damn right I don't trust you, you fucking piece of shit," Michael growled.

 

Ryan glanced over at the curly-haired detective and tutted. "There's no need for language like that, Michael. If you just play along, everything will be fine. After all, it's in your best interests that I stay happy. And I'm sure Gavin will be happy, too, won't you, Gavin?"

 

Gavin averted his gaze, not looking at either of them. "I don't want him to watch."

 

Ryan cupped his jaw, gently turning Gavin's face back towards him so that their eyes met. "I do," he said softly. "I want him to watch very much. I want him to see what he could have had if he'd just understood that you needed more from him." He traced the pad of his thumb along Gavin's cheekbone. "And he should have seen that. It wasn't fair of him to just assume you'd be waiting for him when he finally got the balls to take things further. Don't you think?"

 

The Brit hesitated a few seconds, then gave Ryan the minutest of nods, such an infinitesimally small motion that Michael almost missed it - almost. His stomach flipped horribly.

 

He wanted to either cry, or scream.

 

It was all he seemed to be doing these days.

 

A wide grin lit up Ryan's face, and Gavin let out a soft gasp as the older man began nosing at his neck, shoving the knife back into the sheath in his back pocket rather haphazardly. The nuzzling quickly evolved into dragging lips and tongue and scraping teeth, Ryan's mouth thoroughly working over the expanse of Gavin's neck and collarbone. Gavin sent a brief, desperately apologetic look over at Michael, who resolutely ignored him, before his eyelids fluttered shut, arching his neck to Ryan's touch almost involuntarily.

 

Michael's breath came harsh and heavy, all but shaking with his desire to turn away, but knew that he couldn't. Gavin might not have believed it, but Michael knew that their kidnapper would most definitely follow through with his threat on Gavin's life. There was nothing Michael could do except to watch Gavin being fucked a few scant metres from him.

 

Gavin bit his lip to muffle his moans as Ryan began to palm him through his underwear, his hips snapping up against the older man's hand. Ryan worked him over until he was hard and straining against his underwear, then all but ripped the fabric off him. Panting and gasping, Gavin shook as Ryan ran his thumb over the head of cock before suddenly flipping the younger man over, reaching under the bed for the bottle of lube that he kept there. The Brit trembled in anticipation, now keeping his eyes entirely averted from Michael, like he was trying his hardest to pretend the other detective wasn't even there. He smothered a groan as Ryan slipped a lubed finger into him, sliding in and out easily before adding a second. The fact that Gavin took in Ryan's fingers so readily spoke volumes for the amount of times that they two must have had sex that hadn't been recorded for Michael to endure, and the redhead clenched his jaw so hard he wouldn't have been surprised to feel something crack.

 

The psychopath massaged Gavin's prostate with well-practiced motions, and within minutes Gavin was quivering and mewling, all attempts at keeping himself from outwardly displaying his pleasure failing. His back arched, mouth open and head flung back as he moaned for more, his need dripping onto the sheets below him. The sight of Gavin so lost in lust stirred something low in Michael's gut, and he hated himself for it; he hated Gavin for looking so goddamn enticing; but most of all, he hated Ryan for taking Gavin from him in the first place.

 

Gavin cried out as Ryan finally added a third digit, his other hand firm on the Brit's hip as he continued to thrust fingers into him.

 

All at once, Michael couldn't take it anymore. "Get the fuck away from him!" he snapped, yanking angrily at his chains.

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow in his direction, still working his fingers in and out of Gavin's hole.

 

"Oh? You want me to stop? What do you say to that, Gavin?"

 

The Brit groaned something unintelligible.

 

"Well, I think his opinion on the matter is quite clear, even if his words aren't. What's your offer?"

 

Heart racing, Michael swallowed dryly. "Me.

 

"You can have me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops mic*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT I DID INSTEAD OF STUDYING?! I swear, I'm just gonna post this and get back to the grind. Gotta get those grades. See you in 25 years. (I haven't left my house since Tuesday someone send help)
> 
> Also, remember how I said there would only be this chapter and an epilogue left to go? I lied. This chapter got WAY out of hand, so I had to split it in two. Well, I didn't *have* to, but I like having consistent chapter lengths so anything that's not a one-shot that encroaches on 4,000 words will get cut in half, and this chapter alone is almost 2,500. So, for those of you concerned about the major character death, you're safe for another chapter.
> 
> Content warnings for what's probably the most noncon thing I've ever written that doesn't have penetrative sex, mild violence and threats on life and limb.

"W-What? Ngh- Michael, no," Gavin whimpered. Michael ignored him, and ignored the lump forming in his own throat, threatening to choke him.

 

"You like having a fight, right? You like the challenge. Leave him alone, see if you've got what it takes to take me."

 

Ryan grinned Cheshire-wide, like he'd been waiting for Michael to say those words the entire time. With a sudden shiver of terror, Michael realised that this was exactly what the psychopath wanted to happen, but it was too late to take it back now. At any rate, he really couldn't stand watching Ryan making Gavin fall apart anymore. Ryan slid his fingers out of Gavin and wiped them on his jeans, the Brit mewling weakly at the sensation of suddenly being empty. He scooped up the bottle of lube from Gavin's bed and stalked towards the redhead.

 

"I like where your head's at."

 

Despite his best efforts to keep a brave face, Michael knew he looked utterly terrified, his breathing harsh and shallow as he involuntarily shrank away from the man now approaching him.

 

Gavin read Michael's body language like an open book, and felt something within himself shatter upon realising just how much Michael had to loathe watching Gavin with Ryan, if he was still so scared of the alternative. It was abundantly clear that Michael didn't want to do this. "No!" Gavin howled, standing in the limited capacity that he had and yanking desperately on his chains. The bed frame was solid, however, and bolted to the floor. It didn't move an inch. "Please, Ryan, you said you wouldn't, the first time we met you said you wouldn't touch him!" He gave his chains another ineffectual tug, biting back a hopeless sob. "Michael, please don't do this!"

 

"I'm sorry, Gav. I can't watch anymore. I just can't."

 

"See, Gavin? He wants this." There was the faintest trace of mockery to Ryan's tone, and it made Gavin slump back onto his bed, an utterly distraught look on his face. "I'll admit, it's a little selfish of him, seeing how clearly  _you_  enjoy my attention, but still, you're not going to deny him the opportunity, are you? After what he's been through." Ryan grinned down at Michael, towering over him from the edge of the bed, before looking back at Gavin. "If this is what he wants, it's the least you can do to let him have it." He switched his attention once more to the redhead below him. "By the way, Michael, I'm glad you didn't try anything while I was gone," he added mildly. "That would have been unfortunate." He grinned at Michael in a way that made another thrill of horror run down the length of the younger man's spine, his mind going to the knife the serial killer still had tucked loosely in its sheath in his back pocket.

 

Ryan had been entirely prepared for an escape attempt. If Gavin had actually listened to Michael, there was a good chance one of them would be lying dead on the floor.

 

Not that the current situation was better by much, but Michael would have never forgiven himself if Gavin had been the one to get killed.

 

He let out a slight grunt as Ryan suddenly grabbed onto his hips and yanked him further down on the bed, forcing his arms to straighten above his head. He tried to kick Ryan, but the older man evaded his flailing legs, pouncing onto the mattress and straddling him. Michael then attempted to knee him in the back, but Ryan simply sat on his thighs, pinning the younger man's lower half to the bed. The top half continued to squirm, however, his actions only growing more frenzied as Ryan's hands splayed across his torso, roaming and exploring.

 

"Mm, he  _is_  quite pretty, isn't he, Gav? Look at those hipbones," he said admiringly, trailing his fingers along said area.

 

Gavin whimpered and curled in on himself, hands over his eyes and finally understanding how Michael must have felt every time he saw Gavin with Ryan.

 

An enraged noise escaped Michael as the older man leaned forward, pushing Michael's thighs together with his own to stop them from moving. Smirking, face inches away from Michael's, Ryan murmured, "Don't worry so much, Michael. I know you better than you know yourself. Believe me when I say, you're going to end up enjoying yourself."

 

"Fucking doubt it," Michael spat back at him, and contemplated  _actually_  spitting at him, too. He quickly decided that would be pushing his luck a little too much.

 

Ryan moved in a little closer, and Michael suddenly froze as his struggles caused him to brush up against the tent of Ryan's jeans. Fear and the slightest bit of arousal shot through him, and to his horror he felt himself twitch in response.

 

The older man felt it, too, and his smile was like a shark's. "Somehow, I don't doubt it at all."

 

"When this is through," Michael told him through gritted teeth, his eyes ablaze, "I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to tear you to fucking shreds."

 

Ryan grinned. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? So violent. You could achieve spectacular results if you redirected that anger the way I have, you know. I could teach you to enjoy it." He pressed in close despite Michael's renewed attempts to buck him off, voice dropping low enough that Gavin wouldn't be able to hear. "Shame that your time with me is so limited now."

 

Michael went cold. Ryan was going to kill him.

 

The psychopath grinned again. "You've still got a little while yet. We're going to have some fun first," he whispered with a wink, still quiet, then latched his lips onto Michael's neck, sucking a dark mark onto pale skin. Michael made a stifled noise, twitching again. One of Ryan's hands trailed up his side, coming up to cup Michael's jaw. The younger man tried to twist his head away, but Ryan's grip was firm, his lips now pressing insistently against Michael's. His mouth was clamped shut almost painfully against the kiss, but Ryan's thumb and forefinger pressed hard against his cheeks, the steady pressure on his molars forcing his teeth to part and his lips to open. No matter how much he squirmed, there was no stopping Ryan from pushing his tongue in and assaulting the younger man's mouth, and suddenly all he could taste was Ryan, the older man's being pervading all his senses. Ryan moved closer until their torsos were flush, the heat of his body warming Michael's chest. With the way Ryan was holding his jaw open, Michael couldn't even bite the older man's tongue in retaliation. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. Any movement of his own body now meant that he'd feel Ryan's erection shifting against him, and despite all the things that screamed at him that he didn't actually want this, that he was only doing this to protect Gavin, there was clearly some part of him that was enjoying it because he was slowly but steadily growing hard himself.

 

Ryan was demanding. Michael hadn't really expected any different, but it still made him feel so small and overwhelmed, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to prevent Ryan from getting what he wanted. The older man forced his head up, biting at his neck again until it was a patchwork of dark bruises. Even without being able to see them, the way he could feel his blood pulsing hotly underneath the marks let him know that it would be weeks before they faded.

 

If he was even alive anymore by then.

 

Shifting once more, Ryan suddenly pulled away again, hands dropping to Michael's fly. The detective started writhing, shouting obscenities, but Ryan simply sat on his thighs once more and undid his button and zipper. Michael's legs tangled in the denim as Ryan moved back and yanked his jeans and underwear off in one go. Michael aimed a kick at Ryan's face, but the older man ducked under his foot and caught his flailing legs, hands going behind Michael's knees and forcing them back until they were level with his stomach. Ryan spread his own legs, bracketing Michael's thighs with his while one hand settled firmly on the younger man's abdomen, holding him in place. The other grabbed the bottle of lube that Michael had somehow managed to not knock off the bed, and he popped the cap with his thumb, squirting a line along the length of Michael's exposed cock. He chuckled at the way Michael jerked at the unexpected cool touch, then jerked again as one of Ryan's hands circled around him, spreading the lube down his shaft.

 

A whine tried to build in Michael's throat, but he shoved it back down his oesophagus, wanting to give Ryan as little satisfaction as possible.

 

Because fuck, Ryan knew what he was doing. Michael understood now how Gavin had so easily fallen apart under Ryan's hands - if it were anyone else touching him the way Ryan was at that moment, Michael would already be a quivering mess. But, as it was, Michael had a whole lot of anger and hatred to focus on instead of how good Ryan was with his hands. He gripped onto those dark feelings like his mind had claws, letting it sharpen until he was able to start swearing at Ryan again without his words sounding like they were drowning in a pool of lust. It took a monumental amount of effort to get more than a few dozen words out per minute, and as Ryan continued to work him over there were less and less. Michael felt his resolve slipping.

 

It wasn't long before his legs stopped pushing back against Ryan's to prevent him from getting closer.

 

He caught himself just before he was about to start moaning and bucking up into Ryan's hand.  _Remember what he's done. He's a piece of shit and you hate him_ , Michael reminded himself fiercely, and the cursewords started anew.

 

Ryan gave his cock a warning squeeze before pulling his hips back slightly, free hand going to his own zipper.

 

There was no way Michael was going to try to physically manoeuvre away with such an important piece of his anatomy curled in Ryan's fist, but it certainly didn't stop him from continuing to hurl verbal abuse at him, voice slightly higher than before with tension and fear.

 

Then Ryan's jeans were down just below his knees, his own erection standing proud as he leaned in closer and Michael panicked and thought  _oh dear god no he's going in dry_  and whimpered as Ryan's hand tightened threateningly on his cock before-

 

Relief flooded through Michael when Ryan simply loosened the hold he had on the younger man and took them both in hand simultaneously, a feeling that was quickly chased by pleasure at the sensation of warm, thick flesh pressing against him. Revulsion followed soon after. Averting his eyes, Michael's head drooped back against his pillow, already exhausted.

 

He really couldn't do anything about what was happening now. He had to just endure whatever Ryan decided to do. The only solace he could find was the fact that for every minute that Ryan touched him, it was another minute that he was leaving Gavin alone. But even that was starting to lose its potency, because the occasional whimpers coming from the other side of the room left him wondering if Gavin didn't actually feel worse than before. He certainly enjoyed Ryan's ministrations far more than Michael did - he honestly didn't know if he would have been able to take it anymore if Ryan had actually chosen to start fucking him, rather than jerking them both off.

 

Which was something that wasn't even completely off the table at this point, Michael knew, and the thought utterly terrified him.

 

For the time being, at least, Ryan seemed content with not taking things to that level, shifting against Michael's legs for a more comfortable position for himself. Not for Michael, of course, who found his thighs being pushed practically flush with his stomach as Ryan leaned over him, mouth dipping down to leave more dark bruises across Michael's neck and chest. One of Michael's legs slipped awkwardly and uncomfortably to the side, and he let out a small grunt of pain as his knee knocked into the wall. He started to drag his leg back up into the at least moderately comfortable position it had been in before, but the inherent awkwardness meant that he accidentally brushed his calf against the back of Ryan's thigh. The older man let out a pleased growl against Michael's pec, and reached his free hand back to hold Michael in place, to hold him more open and vulnerable, leaning back a little to maintain his balance as his other hand continued to glide over their lengths. Fresh tears prickled at the corners of Michael's eyes and he let his leg go slack, resigning himself even as he threw another weak insult at Ryan.

 

He barely stopped himself from freezing in surprise as the bottom of his foot scraped along the denim shoved midway down Ryan's calves, bumping against smooth plastic.

 

His heart raced.

 

The knife. Ryan's knife. It was still in the older man's pocket. And, Michael realised after giving it a discreet prod with his toe, it was still loose in the sheath from when Ryan had somewhat haphazardly slotted it back into place after threatening Gavin with it. Michael could pull it free, and hide it under his leg once Ryan was done. The older man would probably be too busy coming down from his orgasm to notice the knife was gone when he pulled up his pants.

 

It was extremely risky, but if Michael could manage to get the knife out without Ryan noticing, it would probably be the best chance he had of leaving that room alive. It wasn't likely that he'd have another shot at escape, if Ryan hard been telling the truth earlier when he'd said that their time together was drawing to a close.  _And he hasn't lied to you yet, has he?_  Michael thought with sick humour, fighting to keep himself from bursting out into hysterical laughter, or from letting his newfound determination show.

 

One way or another, Michael was not going to be in that room for much longer at all.

 

And if he had to go out, at least it would be on his own terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally meant to ask this last chapter, but because I split this one things worked out quite well: I know a few people have been tossing around theories on what will happen/who will die, and I'm really interested to hear how everyone thinks it's going to play out. If you don't mind taking the time, please post a comment telling me what you think/hope will happen, and then see how close you get to the mark next update! Think of it like a Ten Little Roosters fanfic minisode. Except there's no prizes. Actually, I'll do a shout-out at the end of the next chapter for anyone who guesses right. Best prize ever right there.
> 
> Stay tuned!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise profusely for the lateness of this chapter - my laptop, which has served me faithfully for close on four years, died in my arms a few weeks ago. Luckily I had all my story notes and chapters and the like backed up, so I haven't lost anything there, but it _did_ mean that I had to finish this chapter on my phone, hence it taking longer than usual. Also luckily, it's my birthday on the 27th, so I'll be going out then to buy a new laptop.
> 
>  
> 
> Between now and probably the beginning of December, there won't be any new fic from me because of this (and the fact that I'll now be writing most of my prompt for the Ragehappy Secret Santa on my phone as well, which hopefully I'll still be able to get it done on time).
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway...
> 
>  
> 
> Eyy, finally at the last chapter! We're also at the major character death portion of the fic, so if reading that would genuinely upset you, I suggest checking out. With a fic like this, the death isn't going to be pleasant.
> 
>  
> 
> That being said, if you started reading this fic before realising there'd be a character death (I know there's a few of you), or thought you could stomach it but are now having second doubts, and you still really want a conclusion, let me know. I've got an idea for an alternate ending where no one dies, so I can whip that up too in a couple of weeks' time if anyone wants that. (Not gonna lie, I'm probably going to write it even if no one asks me to. And possibly another where different people/a different person dies than the main storyline, because some theories from readers are quite interesting. I MAKE MY OWN RULES.)
> 
>  
> 
> Also, don't forget there will be an epilogue concerning whichever character/s are left alive. Which, you know, might just be the guys at the precinct finding Michael, Gavin and Ryan's bodies. Or it might be whoever survived in the room. Or it might be that Ryan's done something that will result in the death of a bunch of the guys at the precinct. It's one of the three, or possibly a combination. Who knows? (I do. Read on and join me.)
> 
>  
> 
> Content warnings for noncon, blood, gore, mild violence and character death.

It turned out to be more difficult than he'd realised to get the knife free. Even though at some points all Michael was moving was his toes, it still necessitated the use of muscles throughout his entire leg. His only option was to shift both legs against Ryan so that the movement wouldn't seem out of place. The thing that disgusted him the most was that he was actually enjoying it about as much as he was now showing - it was more his pride and morals that had had him cursing Ryan's very existence. He still slipped a few angry expletives in between his muffled cries of pleasure, more to fool himself into thinking he was still fighting his own enjoyment of the situation than anything else.

 

After a few failed attempts, Michael managed to slot the knife's handle between his big toe and his second toe, his entire foot curling as he tried to drag the knife from its sheath. Ryan's thumb flicked over both their tips and Michael twitched, head pressing back against the pillow and swearing as he lost his grip on the knife. The determined set of his face broke and a moan escaped him when Ryan repeated the action, thumb swirling around the head of Michael's cock before continuing to jerk them both off.

 

Michael bit his lip and tried again, toes probing and curling around the handle once more. It was a huge effort to not look down, so he squeezed his eyes shut, trusting his sense of touch to get the job done. He came dangerously close to smiling when his new hold on the knife let it inch its way out of the leather sheath.

 

He got it about halfway out before a cramp seized his foot.

 

Cursing at Ryan again, Michael straightened his foot slightly while maintaining a grip on the knife, but it didn't help. Forgoing caution, Michael tugged a little harder.

 

Just as the cramp in his foot was starting to become unbearable, he felt the knife finally slide completely out of its sheath, the metal blade cool against his bare toes. Hating himself for it, he let out a loud moan to cover up the sound of the knife falling onto the covers, flexing his foot to ease the pain. His heart raced, daring to hope that Ryan hadn't noticed.

 

It took everything he had not to break out into relieved laughter as the older man didn't bat an eyelash. He only gave Michael that sharklike grin again at the sound of his moan, and continued to focus on pumping their cocks, seeming entirely unaware that he'd just given the younger man the exact tool he needed to escape.

 

Now that he'd gotten the knife, Michael had nothing to distract him from the way Ryan's hand was moving over him, and his back arched as he tried to stop himself from bucking up into Ryan's fingers. His hips twitched with the effort of it, aborted noises of strain and pleasure escaping from behind clamped lips. He wasn't going to last much longer at all, he knew. His arms shook and his whole body quaked, rebelling against the idea that Ryan could bring him to this, but he knew.

 

And so did Ryan.

 

"Just look at how much you want this," he murmured, lips curling up superciliously as a genuine moan slipped past Michael's lips. If Michael  _did_ manage to survive this, he knew he was never going to be able to escape the memory of how good Ryan had made him feel, and he utterly despised himself for it.

 

"Fuck… you," Michael managed to choke out, and came, hard, coating his abdomen with warm shame. Ryan's eyes were half-lidded as he let out a single groan, gripping Michael's thigh tightly as he shot his load a few seconds later, spurting hotly and mingling with Michael's release on the younger man's belly.

 

"I told you you'd enjoy it," Ryan whispered, looking smug as he began to pull back, doing his jeans up.

 

Panting harshly and stomach painted with semen, Michael made sure one of his legs covered the knife on the bed before closing his eyes, hiding from the triumphant smirk on Ryan's face. His eyes were still closed and his breathing still ragged as he heard Ryan's quiet footsteps heading for the door. It creaked slightly as it opened, and Ryan paused, voice nonchalant as he said, "Oh, and Michael? If you've tried to clean yourself off when I get back, I'm going to be  _very_  disappointed in you."

 

The door closed. Michael immediately rolled over and rubbed his stomach frantically against the covers, trying to get as much of the older man's release off him as he could, shuddering uncontrollably at every spot of his skin that still felt tacky. Then, he used his knees to push the knife up the bed, where he could pick it up by his teeth and transfer it to his hands.

 

Gavin heard Michael's frenzied shuffling, but it took him a few moments to work up the courage to look over at his friend. He gasped in shock when he finally uncovered his eyes and saw the knife the other detective was trying to properly place against one of his cuffs.

 

Michael heard the noise and grinned savagely over at him. "Got Haywood's knife," he said unnecessarily, eyes alight at the prospect of escape. But Gavin barely heard him, gaze travelling along the bruises and stains Ryan had left on Michael's body.

 

The Brit's eyes were wide and wet. "I'm so sorry, Michael. You were right, he doesn't love me. He wouldn't have done that if he did. But…" his voice quavered. "There's a stupid dumb idiot part of me that still loves him, I think." He dropped his head into his hands again. "I don't want to at all anymore."

 

Gritting his teeth, Michael repositioned the knife, holding it awkwardly as he dragged the blade over leather, trying to find some purchase. "Gav, look at me. We can do this, okay? I'm gonna cut off these cuffs, I'm-" he grunted in pain as the knife slipped and cut into the side of his palm, "-gonna undo yours, we're both going to beat the shit out of Haywood if he tries to stop us, and then we're getting the fuck out of here. Can I count on you for that?"

 

Gavin hesitated. "I think so. I'll try my best, Michael." His eyes were glued once more to the other detective's bruises. "I don't want him to do that to you ever again."

 

The redhead smiled without humour, finally finding traction for the blade. "'Good to hear," he muttered, grimacing as he caught his forearm with the tip of the knife, a thin line of blood welling up and dribbling down his arm.

 

He sawed frantically at the leather, cursing profusely every time that his unwieldy grip meant that the knife dug into his flesh. His blood soaked into the cuffs, making them slippery, but he kept doggedly on. He crowed in triumph as he finally broke through the last few strands, pulling his wrist free from the mutilated cuff just as Ryan walked back in through the door.

 

He took one look at Michael and dove across the room, the younger man tugging desperately at the chain still wrapped around the headboard, fingers fumbling clumsily at the complicated clasp circled around his other wrist. Then Ryan was upon him, struggling to pin him against the bed. Gavin screamed Michael's name, once again trying to tear his chains from their post.

 

Michael knew that Ryan had the advantage of both physical strength and position, that the older man would overpower him eventually, so he did the only thing he could do - he put all his energy and strength into throwing the knife across the room to land on Gavin's bed, and feverishly prayed to whatever higher powers that might exist that it was within reach for the other detective to be able to effectively use it - and that he would actually be able to bring himself to do so.

 

Ryan abandoned Michael as Gavin scrambled towards the knife, the chain attaching him to the headboard barely long enough for the Brit to be able to reach it - Michael's wild throw had landed the knife close to the foot of the bed. He was lucky it had landed within range at all. Gavin's fingers closed around the handle and he whirled in place, perfectly positioned to halt Ryan's forward charge as the older man impaled himself on the blade.

 

A small choked sound escaped Ryan's lips and he frowned, looking down at where the knife entered his body. Gavin's fingers froze around the handle. Ryan's hand gripped onto Gavin's shoulder as he legs started to go weak.

 

Gavin met his gaze, aghast. "I-I didn't mean..."

 

"Knew you had it in you somewhere," Ryan coughed, grinning as he clutched Gavin against him, driving the knife further into his own body. "Everyone has their tipping point. Do you understand now?"

 

Gavin stared at the blood trickling out from underneath the knife's handle, coating the ends of his fingers and staining Ryan's dark clothes black. He let out a small, horrified gasp as Ryan placed his hands over Gavin's own, and twisted the blade inside him, dragging it through his flesh.

 

Ryan looked at him with burning intensity, not flinching once, and Gavin couldn't tear his eyes away.

 

"Do you understand?" he repeated, blood flecking his lips.

 

"No," Gavin whispered, terrified and confused.

 

The dying man frowned briefly. "That's disappointing. Still, you've got plenty of time." He chuckled at Gavin's bewildered expression. "Looks like I don't, though." Gavin felt Ryan's grip on his hands gradually weaken as the older man stumbled back and thumped painfully against the wall, slumping and slowly sliding down it until he was sitting. "Knew you could do it," he murmured.

 

Realisation dawned on Gavin. "You let Michael get the knife on purpose."

 

Ryan's responding chuckle quickly morphed into a wet cough, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. More gushed from the gaping wound in his abdomen, black on his clothes and red as it pooled on the floor. He didn't even try to stem the flow, his hands curled loosely at his sides. "You're smarter than you let on."

 

_"Why?"_

 

He attempted a half-shrug. "I was always gonna get caught eventually. Might 's well go out on a high note." He smiled crookedly. "You've been my favourite, Gavin."

 

His whole body shaking, Gavin watched the life slowly fade from Ryan's eyes, that bemused smirk still fixed on the older man's face. Gavin could barely bring himself to look at his own blood-soaked hands, fingers clenching stickily together in an attempt to subdue the tremors wracking his entire being. Michael, who had finally extricated himself from his cuffs, placed an arm lightly around Gavin's shoulders. When the Brit didn't shove him away, Michael wrapped him in a tight bear hug, whispering that it was over, that Gavin was so brave, that everything was going to be okay now, that he'd done the right thing.

 

Gavin leaned into him, bloodied hands curled against Michael's chest as he stared at Ryan's limp corpse over the redhead's shoulder, knife still embedded in his blood-coated abdomen. Something sour swirled in Gavin's stomach, and despite Michael's continuing assurances to the contrary as he worked at undoing the Brit's cuffs, Gavin couldn't help but feel that he'd just done something very, very wrong.

 

~* * *~

 

After allowing Gavin several minutes to gain some semblance of control over himself, they gathered what little clothes they had, put them on, and headed for the door.

 

Neither of them could help casting one last look at the body of the man who had held them captive. With a feeling strangely akin to reluctance, Michael ushered Gavin into the next room and closed the door behind them.  

 

They both knew that even though Ryan was now dead and gone, it would be a long, long time before either of them stopped feeling his hands upon their skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it, folks! Again, don't forget there will be an epilogue.
> 
> Kudos to the smart cookies on AO3 that figured it out completely (RogerRabbit, 25megumi, vanroku, and mamaren), and GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes, who figured that Ryan would be the one to die.
> 
> And just casually, I'm going to point out that Ryan's last word is 'Gavin'. Have fun.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say this chapter would be the epilogue? I may have lied. 
> 
> I am very bad at planning things properly. 
> 
> The next chapter will definitely be the epilogue, though. It's short, too, and I've already written most of it, so it should be out tomorrow.

The last time Michael had seen any part of this room - and really, even then it had only been the door and part of the wall - was in the very first video Ryan had left for him. Still, after what felt like weeks of being trapped in that concrete hellhole, any change of scenery was a godsend for him, and probably even more so for Gavin.

 

It was a fairly crowded space. A bed not dissimilar to the ones they had been provided with was pressed against one wall, presumably being where Ryan had slept. A shelf stocked with all manner of long-lasting food items was crammed in the space between the bed and the adjacent wall. A generator hummed quietly in one corner, presumably powering the dim lights. Next to it was a tub with a washboard and fold-out drying rack leaning against it, clearly where Ryan had cleaned his own clothes and any soiled bedsheets.

 

Taking up the most room were two large, semi-translucent water containers. One had a stepladder at its base, its contents distinctly murkier than its companion. Michael figured that Ryan had dumped any dirty water in there, whilst the other tank held clean water. It was a method that certainly worked in the short run, but after a while would leave the issue of how to dispose of the sullied water inconspicuously, and just went to show that Ryan really had planned all along to die by their hands.

 

Michael shook himself, focusing on the door across the room that would lead to their freedom.

 

"C'mon, Gav," he murmured, directing Gavin towards the other side of the room, barely stopping short of just grabbing the Brit's hand and dragging him along. Michael might have been impatient to get as far away from wherever they were as possible, but Gavin's mind was still in the room they'd just left. 

 

After a moment of resistance, Gavin allowed himself to be moved, and Michael stationed him to the side of the door as he placed his own shoulder against it and pushed.

 

Michael groaned at its weight, shoving until there was a large enough gap for the both of them to squeeze through. They stepped into a small space filled with towers of cardboard boxes, brushing against a slanted ceiling that tapered away until it touched the floor. The door shut behind them, the seal barely visible as the lock clicked into place. Michael led the way, clearing a path for them by carefully shoving columns of boxes to the side, not wanting to topple them and end up buried in their contents. A few seconds later, they emerged from the cardboard stacks, finding themselves in a small basement space, the boxes crammed into a tiny alcove formed underneath concrete stairs that presumably led up to the ground floor of whatever building they were in. Gavin trailed after Michael as they made their way up the steps, clinging to the redhead's hand as they headed towards their freedom.

 

Taking a deep breath, Michael twisted the knob on the door at the top of the stairs, blinking slightly in surprise as they were confronted with the day-lit interior of an unassuming suburban home. After the initial shock, Michael began to recognise the layout of the house, and several of the decorations and pieces of furniture.

 

Then he started to howl with laughter as he realised exactly where Ryan had kept them for however long it had been. Gavin pulled his hand away, frightened by how manic Michael looked, hands coated and chest stained with both his own and Ryan's blood as he cackled hysterically, clutching his sides.

 

"That motherfucker," he gasped between fits of laughter, knowing that he needed to get control of himself for Gavin's sake, and that it was really kind of fucked up that he was finding this so funny. "We were right fucking on top of him and we didn't even know it." He gestured around at the hallway they were standing in, and the rooms that joined to it. "We're in his fucking house, Gavin. He had a goddamn secret room in his basement and we walked right by it." And he went off again, leaning against the wall for support as Gavin backed away slightly, an increasingly concerned expression on the Brit's face.

 

"Michael?" he whispered tentatively, and the redhead finally sobered up at just how afraid Gavin sounded.

 

"Shit, Gav, I'm sorry. I kinda lost it there for a minute. I didn't mean to scare you." He took a small step towards the Brit, his encouraging smile growing a little more assured as the other man didn't flinch away. He rapidly closed the distance, wrapping Gavin up in a tight hug. "I'm okay, really," he promised, gently stroking Gavin's back. "I'm just… I'm so happy. We did it. We fucking did it. We're out, we're free. We can go home."

 

Gavin's arms were like a vice around him. "I killed him," he said, voice filled with horror, as if the enormity of his actions had taken that long to catch up with him. "He wanted me to do it, he wanted me to be like him, but I don't, I don't want to be like that, I don't ever want to have to kill anyone ever again." Gavin gripped at Michael like he was drowning, his tears soaking into the other detective's shoulder. "I didn't want to kill him. I didn't want to do it and he made me."

 

Michael patted him on the back, slightly awkward. He knew it was terrible, but he couldn't help but feel like Gavin had cheated him out of his revenge. The logical part of his mind pointed out that he himself had made the choice to throw the knife to Gavin, and that if he hadn't, they'd likely both be dead. But the rest of him hated the fact that Gavin had been the one to deliver to killing blow, especially considering the Brit derived no satisfaction from the act. He did his best to push the unworthy thoughts away and focused on soothing Gavin's nerves.

 

"You had to," Michael said firmly. "If you didn't, I'd be dead right now." He pulled back, offering a wobbly but sincere smile. "You saved my life." The Brit seemed to calm a little at this, but still looked dangerously close to passing out, so Michael pressed on. "Gavin, he didn't love you, you know that now. He would've killed us both eventually, even if we never tried to escape." He bit his lip, gently cupping Gavin's jaw. "But I love you," he murmured, a blush mounting on his pale, freckled cheeks. "I shouldn't've needed all this to happen to have the guts to admit that, but I love you." He threw caution to the wind, pressing their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss.

 

But Gavin panicked and squirmed out of his grasp, almost hyperventilating. "Michael, I'm sorry, I- it's too much, I can't- you taste like  _him_ -" His sentences came in choppy chunks, a wild look in his eyes, as if any sudden movements would make him bolt.

 

Michael's stomach churned unpleasantly, guilt slicing through him sharp as a knife. The romantic scene he'd been building in his head crumbled around him, and he cursed his own impetuous nature for surging into things when Gavin was clearly still vulnerable and not at all over Ryan. They were both still splattered with the dead man's blood, for god's sake.

 

 _Right on par with a candlelit dinner on the beach_ , Michael berated himself sarcastically.  _Fucking idiot_.

 

"Gavin, stop, it's okay. I shouldn't have done that. I'm the one who should be sorry, okay? You're not ready, and that's fine. I'm fine waiting."

 

Gavin nodded tersely, not meeting his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his thin shoulders. "Let's just get home, yeah?"

 

"…Yeah. Yeah, okay." He steered Gavin towards the living room, sitting the Brit down on the couch while he hunted for Ryan's mobile.

 

Eventually, he found it lying on the kitchen counter. His hands shook as he punched in Geoff's number, glad that it was one of the few phone numbers he'd bothered to memorise.

 

 _"Hello? Who is this?"_ Geoff sounded hoarse and drained.

 

"Hey, Geoff."

 

 _"…Michael?"_ he rasped disbelievingly.

 

A wild grin stretched across Michael's face, equal parts elation and exhaustion. "Yeah, it's me. Gav and I're at Haywood's, you gonna pick us up or what?"

 

~* * *~

 

Geoff was, predictably, the first on scene. He'd driven over so fast even the paramedics were several minutes behind him.

 

Michael had moved both Gavin and himself to the living room, near the front door, when they heard the sound of a car tearing down the road at high speed. Then, brakes squealed harshly on the driveway in a way that couldn't possibly be good for the tires. Seconds later, Geoff burst into the room like a force of nature, all but hurling himself at the two younger men sitting on the couch.

 

The change in physical appearance that had come over the Police Chief while they'd been gone was dramatic. The majority of his hair was now grey. There were even streaks of silver running through his moustache, which was looking far less well-kept than usual. His eyes at least were bright and wet with relief, but the perpetual bags he had under them had gotten so dark that they almost looked like bruises.

 

"I can't fucking believe you're both still alive," he whispered, voice cracking several times as he clutched at them.

 

"Ah, we're way too pretty to die  _this_  young," Michael tried to joke, but when he laughed, he came stupidly close to bursting into tears. Instead, he clung to Geoff, embracing the older man fiercely.

 

"Where's Haywood?" Geoff asked when he finally pulled back. Michael had already told the older man over the phone that their kidnapper was dead, but he hadn't gone into any detail.

 

"Basement," he said now. "There's a hidden room underneath the stairs."

 

He grinned tiredly, like a physical weight had dropped from his shoulders. "Have to admit, even though there was no way he wasn't getting life, I feel way better knowing that he's gone for good."

 

"You're telling me," Michael murmured, just as the paramedics arrived. The two detectives were efficiently checked over and wrapped up in shock blankets. Gavin drew his tightly around himself, as if it was the only thing that could him together. Michael, on the other hand, shrugged his off immediately.

 

That was, until he noticed Geoff staring painfully at the bruises Ryan had left on his body, the obvious hickeys that were littered across his neck and chest. He was quick to cover up again.

 

Two paramedics gently eased Gavin from the couch, moving to lead him to one of the ambulances waiting outside. One of them asked if Michael wanted to ride in the same ambulance as the other detective, but he knew that Gavin surely still felt uncomfortable around him, even if he wasn't saying anything. He shook his head no, not trusting his voice. 

 

Geoff and Michael silently watched the paramedics usher Gavin out the front door. 

 

"Well, at least you finally got what you wanted, or some of it," the older man said eventually, trying to find something remotely positive about the entire experience.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You killed Haywood, didn't you?"

 

Petty jealousy washed over Michael in waves, no matter how hard he tried to force it away. His eyes dropped from Geoff's. "…No. I didn't."

 

Geoff's eyes were suddenly wide. "You're telling me that Gavin-"

 

"Yeah."

 

" _Jesus_ , dude."

 

A small smile ghosted across the detective's lips at the fact that Geoff was still the kind of person that could use the word 'dude' in a serious conversation and get away with it. To Michael, it had felt like he'd spent a lifetime trapped in that underground room, so it was good to know that things hadn't really changed.

 

"…Yeah," he repeated, more quietly.

 

"How the hell did that happen?"

 

Michael took a deep, shuddering breath. "When Haywood…" He made a vague gesture at his own body, the words sticking in his throat. Geoff nodded sympathetically to let him know that he understood. Michael hugged the blanket around himself again. "I managed to get the knife he had in his pocket without him noticing. Well, he noticed, but he didn't let on… I'll get to that later." Another shaky breath, seeming to rattle hollowly in his lungs. "When he was… done… he left the room, and I got the knife into my hands, started cutting at my cuffs. I got through one and he came back in, saw what I was doing. He practically did a running tackle at me, I didn't have time to pull my other hand free before he was on top of me again. There was no way… there was no fucking way I was gonna be able to overpower him, and I just wanted him _dead_  so _badly_. I wanted to kill him  _so fucking much_." His fists curled tightly, teeth clenching. "But I would've died trying, probably without even scratching him.

 

"So I threw the knife over to Gavin." His voice started to become breathy and rambling as the words seemed to tumble out of him. "I wanted to just stab that motherfucker  _over_  and  _over_  for what he turned Gavin into, but I couldn't, so I threw the knife - I still don't know how I actually managed to throw it far enough - and- and Gavin picked it up, and Ryan turned away from me to charge at him, and he held up the knife and Ryan basically just ran onto it. Then- then he told us that he'd planned for me to get the knife all along, for me to pass it off to Gavin. He wanted Gavin to be the one to kill him, and I gave the piece of shit exactly what he wanted.

 

"Then when I undid my other cuff, and got Gavin out of his, and we got out of the room and into the house and I was just  _so fucking glad_  that we'd made it - I was just so fucking happy." He let out a sad, disbelieving huff of laughter. "I told Gavin I loved him, I kissed him, and I thought- god, I thought things would finally work but… Gavin freaked out, of course there was no way he was ready for that after just killing a guy for the first time, and all he could do was apologise and tell me I still tasted like Ryan and I think kissing Gavin was probably the worst thing I could've done." He buried his head in his hands, shaking slightly, and if he hadn't noticed that in his emotional state he'd started referring to their kidnapper as Ryan instead of Haywood, then Geoff wasn't about to point it out. The young detective had been through far too much already. "This is all just so _fucked up_."

 

"Hey," Geoff murmured gently. "It's over now. You're out, Haywood's dead. I'm not saying you won't be affected by everything that's happened - and no one expects you to be alright straight away - but all the damage to be done has already been done. Things will only get better from now, and you  _will_  get through this. Okay?"

 

Michael sniffed, embarrassed even though being emotional was entirely justified, given the circumstances. "Thanks, Geoff," he replied as the paramedics returned to escort him to the second ambulance, wary of the numerous cuts on his hands and forearms as they helped him to his feet.

 

Geoff stared after him, heart heavy with the knowledge that the two detectives would never be the same – that this experience would either finally bring them together, or tear them apart forever.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No content warnings for this one, but I _do_ have the feeling that some people will get angry with me.

"Hey Michael."

 

Two weeks had passed since the two detectives had escaped from Ryan's clutches. Michael had gotten back to work after only a day's rest, whereas Gavin had yet to muster the strength to bring himself to face being at the precinct again.

 

Their bruises had all but faded completely by now. The cuts on Michael's arms had largely healed, faint pink lines on his skin contrasting against the bandage still wrapped around his left forearm and the plaster stuck over the side of the palm of his right hand, the two deepest wounds he'd inflicted on himself when cutting through his cuffs. He winced slightly as he leaned his left arm against the frame of his front door, quickly switching to his shoulder.

 

"Hey, Gavin," he replied, trying to act casual, but he knew already that was a lost cause. He hadn't seen or heard from Gavin since the paramedics had whisked the Brit away from Ryan's house, despite repeated attempts to contact him. When Michael had opened his front door to find the Brit standing there, he'd frozen for a few seconds, lips slightly parted.

 

His heart dared to rise in his chest, even though some part of him realised that Gavin looked just a little too wary to be there for the reason Michael wanted him to be.

 

Michael cleared his throat. "Wanna come in?" he offered hopefully, gesturing to the Xbox in the living room. As if they tried hard enough, they could pretend nothing had happened, could just play video games and kiss each other and maybe even finally take things further.

 

But Gavin shook his head, shoulders hunching. "No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to talk real quick." He took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."

 

"…The force?" Michael said stupidly, his heart stopping in its tracks and starting to sink again.

 

"Well, yeah, that too, but mostly I mean…" He trailed off with a shuddering sigh, and barely met Michael's eyes when he continued with, "I'm going back to England."

 

Michael's heart turned to stone and plummeted into his shoes. "What?"

 

The Brit hugged his arms around himself. "I see him everywhere, Michael," he whispered. "Everything here reminds me of him. _You_ remind me of him. I can't… I have to… I just can't deal with this. I'm not as strong as you are." He laughed weakly, and it sounded more like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you in person. You don't deserve to hear this over the phone."

 

"You can't go," Michael rasped painfully, pitifully. This couldn't be happening. Things were supposed to be getting _better_.

 

Gavin shook his head again. "I have to. I can't stay here."

 

Michael reached forward desperately, only pulling back as he saw the fright on Gavin's face as the Brit shrank back.

 

"But I love you," Michael blurted, hands clenching around the hem of his shirt and twisting.

 

Gavin's eyes dropped away. "I'm sorry," he said thickly. "But I'm damaged goods now, and you're going to want to fix me, but you can't. The only person that can fix me is me, and I'm going to need a lot of time for that. I can't be the person you want me to be. Not anymore. I'm so sorry." He lifted his eyes one last time to meet Michael's, and tried to smile. "You'll be alright. You'll find someone better than me. You'll find someone that deserves to have you." He hesitated a moment, then stepped forward to give Michael a hug.

 

The red-haired detective wrapped his arms around the slimmer man, burying his face in the crook of Gavin's neck and trying to ignore how tense the Brit was. As soon as Michael felt him start to pull away, he let Gavin go, despite everything in him that screamed at him to do the opposite.

 

Gavin's eyes had dropped to ground again. "Take care of yourself, Michael," he murmured before turning around.

 

"You too," Michael managed before he was forced to watch the man he loved walk away.


End file.
